Seeing is Believing
by FantomPhan33
Summary: We all know the story of the masked, musical genius who lived beneath the Opera Garnier in Paris…or do we? What if his early life had been altered in one dramatic way? Or his meeting with Christine had come about differently? And what might happen when his past and present come crashing together in the most unexpected of ways?
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings, my wonderful readers!**

**Here is my latest offering... a heartwarming tale about our favorite Opera Ghost. **

**I am just going to say this outright...ERIK AND I LOVE GETTING REVIEWS! So please make us both happy and take a moment to send us one at the end of each chapter...pretty please.**

**OH and I am honor bound to warn you that this story contains a lot of 'feels' and tugs at your heartstrings. It also has a lot of laughs, loves and will hopefully make you smile. It will be, as usual, a smut-light story. *end of public service announcement* **

**We start out a bit differently than any of the ones I have written before. I hope you like it!**

**And so, I give you:**

**"Seeing is Believing"**

**Chapter 1**

**The Paper Swan**

1856 - Small town just outside of Paris, France

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Anna tucked a stray lock of her golden hair behind her ear and stared down at the newspaper page in her hand, reading over the advertisement for a housekeeper and nanny one more time. This was her last hope, for if she did not secure a position this very day, she feared she would not only be left homeless but also without the basic necessities like food and clothing as well. So as she stared up at the house before her, Anna said a silent prayer that she would not walk away empty handed this time.

Over the past several months she had gone from one form of occupation to the next, yet without many of the skills needed to hold steady employment, she was let go each time. While Anna worked very hard, was always on time and more than willing to take direction…the fault lay in the fact that she simply did not know how to _do_ anything. She couldn't cook, sew, bake or even clean a floor properly – at least according to her last employer. Yet, what did they expect from a girl who had been trained to do only one thing since she was ten years old? However, that skill had been lost to her and there was no way it was ever coming back. Now, at the not so tender age of thirty-one, Anna had very few options left to her. She knew that her beauty was no longer that of her youth, though she had retained her trim figure and comely appearance - if the lustful glances that men still gave her were to be believed. Yet looks did not pay the bills, and so she found herself once more searching for work and hoping this time she would be a good fit for the job.

The advertisement was several weeks old, however when she inquired, it appeared that the position had still not been filled. This gave her hope…as well as a measure of dread. The job did not sound overly difficult and the wages it promised were very reasonable, so why did it seem no one wanted the position? When she had asked directions on the street, the looks she had received were also alarming. Some did not even bother to answer her question, merely muttered a quick prayer and hurried on. What was it that had so many people nervous about the address she asked about? What was Anna getting herself into?

As she approached the gate, rusty and overrun with vines, she double checked the address one last time, hoping there had been some mistake. Yet it matched, so she proceeded up the walk. The house was quite grand and probably in its day had been the envy of all who passed by. But now with the paint peeling, shingles missing and many of the upper windows boarded up, the house looked downright eerie. Anna shaded her emerald green eyes against the setting sun and when she looked up she could have sworn she saw some movement in the uppermost window. It was fleeting and probably just her mind playing tricks on her, but for some reason it gave her the shivers.

"What are you doing, Anna?" she asked herself quietly as she stepped up onto the porch. Unfortunately she found she could not argue with the little voice inside her that answered back. _"Surviving."_

So mustering all her courage she reached up and knocked. The heavy wooden door seemed to swallow up the sound and she dearly hoped someone heard her, for she doubted she had the courage to try again. Yet when there came the loud click of a lock and the door opened a few inches, she knew her presence had been detected.

Trying to sound as friendly as possible, Anna greeted the woman whose face appeared in the crack of the door.

"Hello, I am looking for Madame Trouville," Anna told her, using the name that was printed in the newspaper clipping.

"Who are you and what do you want?" came the woman's cold reply, sounding neither friendly nor welcoming.

"M-m-my name is Anna, and I have come to apply for the job that was advertised," she quickly explained, fearing the woman might shut the door in her face. "The one for a housekeeper and a nanny."

The door opened just a bit more, allowing Anna to see that the woman she was speaking with was not as old as she had originally sounded, possibly even a few years younger than herself. However, her clothing and general appearance gave the impression that she was tired beyond her years and supported the weight of many cares. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun and her drab, black dress appeared to be something one might wear when in mourning.

"You…you wish to take the job?" she asked in a shocked voice.

"I would like the opportunity to try," Anna assured her, doing her best to look confident in her decision.

"You can't just try," the woman objected. "You either take the job or you don't. I will not have you coming in here and poking your nose in my business just so you can go spreading gossip all about town!"

When it appeared that the woman was about to slam the door, Anna quickly placed her hand against it to hold it open.

"I guarantee you, Madame Trouville, I am not here for any reason other than to seek employment," she assured her. "I am a hard worker, I am very punctual and I know how to mind my own business." And then, because she truly was that desperate, she added, "Please, I really need the work."

The plea in her words must have convinced the woman for after a moment she stepped back and at last opened the door wide enough for Anna to enter. The inside of the house was almost as bad as the outside. Dust and cobwebs were everywhere and it appeared that the floors had not been swept in a year. She could certainly see why the place was in need of a housekeeper. Yet this led Anna to wonder about the second job of nanny. How in the world could one expect a child to live in such a filthy place? She shuddered to imagine how sickly a babe or even a toddler might be simply by being forced to grow up in such conditions. If she did get the job, she would make sure there were many changes instituted around here immediately.

"I have been ill for some time and I have not had the energy to do any cleaning," the woman told her, obviously noticing how Anna had looked around disapprovingly.

And while it might have been the truth, the true reason for the mess more than likely stemmed from the fact that there were dozens of bottles of wine and other hard liquors sitting around the cluttered parlor. Yet since she needed the job more than she needed an explanation, Anna kept silent and simply nodded her head.

"So tell me about yourself," Madame Trouville continued, motioning for her to take a seat on the sofa while she herself sat down in a comfortable looking chair by the fireplace. "Where do you come from, what has brought you here and why do you think you are the right person for the job?"

"Well, my name is Anna de Ch….Anna Silberg," she stammered, catching herself in time and instead giving the woman her maiden name. "I am originally from Sweden, but I have lived in France since I was thirteen. I am recently…widowed and if you give me the job I promise I will work hard for you and you will be well pleased with my performance."

"Your French is very good, I would not have guessed you were a foreigner," her prospective employer stated as she stared at Anna through discerning eyes. "You appear to be healthy enough to work but are you strong enough to take on the mental strains of this job as well?"

"Mental strain?" Anna questioned. "I don't understand."

"Keeping the house in order is only part of the employment and not the major one at that," the lady explained. "There is…a child in the house. _He_ would be your main concern." She seemed reluctant to talk about the subject and Anna could tell she was being evasive with her information as well. "I would require that you see to his needs, making sure he is occupied with things to do and keep him out of my way. However I will warn you…he is not like _other children_."

"I…I see," Anna nodded, quite sure, in fact, that she didn't.

"By the look on your face, I must assume that you are new to the area," Madame Trouville guessed. "For if you weren't, I would think by now you would have heard some kind of rumors about…the child that lives here."

"I have only been in town for a little over two months," Anna explained. "And in that time I have busied myself with finding a job and not with idle gossip or useless rumors. I deal in fact, Madame Trouville, not in baseless fiction."

This answer seemed to please the woman and after a moment she continued.

"The child in question is deformed, Madame Silberg," she at last confessed. "Horribly so, enough that it has been impossible to keep any servants in this house for longer than a week. He is unruly, belligerent and prone to fits of temper. I have done all I can with him but nothing ever seems to be enough. At times I fear that he is quite mad, or heaven forbid, completely deranged."

"Oh dear," was all Anna could think to say, her eyes growing wide at the woman's words. She had suspected that something was not right in the house but she had never imagined this. How old was the child? How long had he been this way? How would she ever deal with a charge like that?

"Are you still interested in the position?" the woman all but scoffed, seeing the trepidation that now shone in Anna's eyes. "Are you still willing to_ try_?" The last word was said almost as an insult or a dare and nothing brought the pluck out of Anna more than a challenge.

"I am," she assured the somber looking lady. "I told you, I am very much in need of the work and nothing you have said thus far has frightened me enough to leave. However, I find it hard to believe that a child could be as terrible as you describe."

"Well…_seeing is believing_, or so they say. Thus, I think it best that before we go any further with the interview, that you go _see_ for yourself what it is you will be dealing with," Madame Trouville suggested with a heavy sigh, one born from the suspicion that once Anna saw the boy, she would immediately refuse the job. "He is in the last room on the left at the very top of the stairs. Here, you will need this," she said, reaching into a pocket in her dress and pulling out a shiny brass key. "If you still want to work here after you get a good look at him - after you realize that I am in no way exaggerating - then the job is yours."

Anna sat there, wondering what she had gotten herself into as she stared at the key the woman continued to hold out to her. At last, she rose and accepted the instrument that would open the door leading to her new charge. That is_ if_ she didn't run screaming from the house just as Madame Trouville expected her to upon seeing the boy. Yet how bad could it be? If the people she had met on the street were any indication…pretty bad. Still, he was just a little boy…how little she had yet to ascertain but the bottom line was that Anna needed the work. So squaring her shoulders, she turned and headed up the stairs. She had gotten only a few steps up before she turned and looked back, asking the question she should have thought to request sooner.

"What is the boy's name, Madame?"

There was a long pause before she gave an answer.

"He calls himself…_Erik_," she replied with a sigh that conveyed nothing short of contempt and disgust.

.

.

Anna slowly made her way to the top of the stairs and then down the long hallway to stand outside the last door. From the location in the house she was certain that this was the room she had detected movement from while standing outside. It had been only a flash of something, but as she reached up to place the key in the lock she could feel the same shiver of fear snake its way down her spine. With a loud click, the lock gave way and the door swung open a few inches. This was the moment of truth.

Feeling very much like an intruder and wishing to announce her presence, Anna knocked quietly on the door before slowly pushing it open. The room was dark, with only a few small beams of sunlight filtering through the boarded up windows. There was hardly any furniture to speak of; a small dresser, a little table and chair, a wooden trunk and a simple cot over in the corner. There were no pictures or paintings hanging on the wall or shelves of books or even one single toy that she could see - a very dark and dreary existence if Anna ever saw one.

Yet what stole her attention was the small figure over by the far wall, his back turned to her as he sat hunched over something in his lap. She stood frozen in her spot as she took in the sight of him, her mouth going unspeakably dry by what she saw. He was thin…painfully so, almost to the point of being called skeletal. From behind she could see parts of his neck and arms as they peeked out from the ill-fitting shirt he wore. It appeared to be three sizes too small for his minuscule frame and from his elbows down she could see there was very little meat on his frail looking arms and wrists. His backbone was showing through the thin shirt, each little nodule protruded out at least half an inch, making it resemble that of a dragon more than a child. His dark hair was a complete travesty, for parts were long and shaggy, while other places on his skull were completely bare or sported only peach fuzz. And while he had yet to move or even acknowledge that she was in the room, Anna could see his frail shoulder rise and fall with each breath he took. If it had not been for that small indication, she might have thought the pitiful child had died months ago and Madame Trouville had simply forgotten to bury the corpse.

Yet he was alive and in desperate need of care, that was certain. So clearing her throat she attempted to speak.

"E-e-erik," she began, her voice cracking as she said his name. "I…I am Madame Silberg…but you can call me Anna." She introduced. "Your…" she found she had to stop there since she was still not certain of the relationship between Erik and her would-be employer. So playing it safe she continued, "Madame Trouville has advertised for a nanny to care for you and I am hoping to take the job."

There was no response from the boy. Not even a flinch. Could he be deaf as well? Surely his guardian would have mentioned such a thing before sending her up. So very cautiously, Anna began to approach the still child, giving him a wide berth as she came around to his left side. The wooden trunk was against the wall about five yards from where he continued to sit and so she lowered herself down on it, perching on the very edge as if prepared to spring forth should danger present itself.

From her new vantage point she could now see two things. One was his profile, which immediately caused a lump to form in her throat. His entire face was covered by a white mask made up of some type of cloth, tied around the back of his head by a black ribbon, which blended seamlessly in with his patchy dark hair. From what she could see, the cloth molded to his face, revealing the non-existence of a nose…or at least not a prominent one. His lower lip and chin were the only parts she could see of his pathetic little face and her heart bled to think of what the mask might still conceal. The second thing she could see was what he was holding on his lap. A book. And not just any book - a large volume the size of the most extensive dictionary. The print was very small, and from what she could see there were no pictures decorating the pages, only words. It was still almost impossible for her to decipher his age, but from the size of him, she could not imagine him being more than seven or eight. If she were to go by his frame alone she might have even guessed younger, but there was an aura about him that betrayed wisdom of years, thus prompting her to gauge higher.

He still refused to look at her, speak or even move and this was beginning to unnerve Anna greatly. While she was immensely pleased that he was not acting out in any way, like Madame Trouville had described him, she was also beginning to wonder how she might interact with him if he refused to even acknowledge her presence.

"Erik, will you not even say hello to me?" she asked quietly, still very wary of the strange boy. Again…nothing. He simply sat there, not moving while he stared at the book, one she still could not believe someone so young could completely understand. In fact upon further examination, it appeared that the book was written in…Latin! Who even read that language anymore?

Anna was about to give up, admit defeat and begin her search for yet another job she could fail at, when her hand brushed against her pocket where the folded up page from the newspaper still lay. An idea struck her and she pulled it out, doing it very slowly and methodically in hopes that the boy would see. She smoothed the crumpled paper out on her lap and began to create intricate folds into it as she went, creating a masterpiece of oriental art. It took her quite a while to complete and as she went, she would peek up to see if she had gained an audience. At first it appeared her work had gone unnoticed, yet as the beautiful swan began to take shape under her skillful hands Anna saw the boy's head turn ever so slightly. By the time she had reached the part where she was forming the wings, he was now staring riveted as she worked. It was then that she saw them…_his eyes_. They were heartbreakingly sad, reflecting years of neglect and loneliness, but it was the color that struck her most. An amber color that rivaled that of any precious gem, burning like two fiery coals from behind that stark white mask. Anna was almost hypnotized by his stare as he watched her hands working their creative powers over the paper. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul…yet what she saw there was more than that – they told the story of his life. And even for one so young, it was plain that Erik's had been full of tragedy.

When the swan was complete, with a graceful neck and wings that protruded on either side of its parchment body, she held it up for inspection.

"There," Anna said with a note of pride. "Not too bad if I do say so myself." And without looking directly at the boy, for fear she might spook him, she set it down on the trunk next to her. "Well, I suppose I better be going. I do not wish to keep you from the book you are reading." Standing up, she gave him a wide smile, causing the boy's exotic eyes to grow wide with shock before he jerked his head back down and once more stared at the volume in his lap. Crestfallen, Anna gave a sigh and headed out, looking back once more before she exited and relocked the door behind her. Yet she did not leave. Instead she placed her ear to the wood and listened, straining to hear anything that might prove to her that she had made a difference. Then she heard it, soft little footsteps as they made their way from where he had sat towards the trunk. A smile touched her lips as she noted the rustling of paper, perhaps the boy was fanning out the wings of the swan or unfolding the creation to ascertain how it had been made. Either way, he had reacted to her presence, acknowledging that she had been there.

Feeling the warm glow of success within her chest, Anna made her way back down to the parlor where Madame Trouville still sat, with a sullen look on her face and a glass of burgundy liquid in her hand. She made no attempts to hide the liquor as Anna entered the room.

"So…you saw him?" It was more a statement than a question. "I did not hear any screaming, so I assume he did not attack you."

Anna was shocked at her words…had that truly been a possibility?

"N-n-no…he was very calm." Almost _too_ calm for one so young. Especially when he should be out playing; running and jumping and getting into normal boyhood mischief. Not sitting up in a dark room reading a behemoth of a book in Latin!

"You saw what he looks like?" this time there was almost a glimmer of hope in her voice.

"I did." Anna confirmed, though in truth she was still very curious as to what the mask continued to hide.

"And…?" Madame Trouville prodded.

"I will take the job."

* * *

**And there you have it folks...the beginning!**

**So what do you think of my starting off the story with Erik so young? I have never written "little Erik" before so I hope I do him justice. I did my best to keep away from Suzette being too physically abusive...mostly just neglectful. But feel free to hate Suzette at any time, in fact...I think it is required! **

**And don't worry, this is totally an Erik/Christine story, I am just laying the foundation for now. Just wait...**

**Oh and Erik's last name is pronounced: True-veel**

**I will be posting chapters three times a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. There are 50 chapters to this story so it will take a while to post, but fear not, there is no chance of me leaving you hanging or abandoning it.**

**Now, please hit the review button and tell me what you think!**

**Your obedient servant,**

**FP33**


	2. Chapter 2

**THANK YOU SO MUCH for all your wonderful reviews! Please keep them up, Erik and I are LOVING THEM!  
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**Guest Reviews:**

**(You realize if you sign in as a guest I can not respond to your wonderful reviews! So until you get yourself an account, this is the best I can do)**

**Guest 1: Thank you for being excited and I do hope you continue to think I am doing little Erik justice. Erik tugs at our heart-strings no matter his age though, am I right?**

**Guest 2: I am so excited to have you all read it!**

**Guessst: Well the next chapter is HERE! And thanks for thinking it will be GREAT!**

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**Chapter 2**

**A Tentative Introduction**

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Anna's steps were lighter and she wore a smile on her face the following day as she opened the rusty gate and headed towards the dilapidated old house. For today was the first day of her new job - a job that would allow her to afford a roof over her head and food in her stomach. Per the advertisement's offer, Madame Trouville, or Suzette as Anna had learned, would provide half the month's salary up front and she would receive the other half at the end of the first two weeks. That bit of coin in her pocket had allowed her to pay the back rent she owed as well as buy a new dress for work. Nothing fancy, just a plain frock off the rack at a modest clothing shop, but to Anna it felt wonderful. She gave an ironic chuckle at that, since for many years she had worn haute couture and dined at the most expensive restaurants, never once giving a thought to the cost. Now, every scrap of clothing was precious to her and every mouthful of food a treat. Oh, how the mighty had fallen!

Pushing such troubling thoughts from her mind, Anna let herself in by way of the back entrance, using the key she had been given the day before. In fact, she now possessed two new keys, one for the back door and one for Erik's room. It truly disturbed her that Suzette felt compelled to keep the child under lock and key, and when she had questioned her about this the day before, the answer had bothered her even more.

"The boy is a menace!" Madame Trouville had stated crossly. "If you do not keep him confined, he makes messes and destroys things. The few times he escaped and had the run of the house, many of my valuables simply disappeared. Heaven knows where he stashed them; I have searched that room of his many times but have yet to find his secret hiding place. And no matter how much you threaten or punish him, that little thief will not confess!"

Anna had been horrified when Suzette had admitted to such abusive behavior towards Erik, but as an employee - and an uncertain one at that - she held her tongue. Instead she sat and listened to Madame Trouville as she listed off her duties, writing them down on a piece of paper she had been provided so that she would not forget a single thing. Each morning when she arrived, Anna was to bring in the mail and then stoke the fireplace, before fixing breakfast. Thankfully there were no elaborate requests, just toast, tea and an occasional hardboiled egg. All things that Anna felt her limited skills might handle. She was also pleased to find that, though the house looked old and decrepit on the outside, it was equipped with many modern conveniences. A hand pump at the sink brought in fresh water through a pipe and upon further inspection, Anna even discovered those newfangled water closets she had only seen in the wealthiest of homes. This both confused and delighted her! How did Madame Trouville rate such luxuries?

When breakfast was complete, Anna was then to restock the firebox with wood from out back and begin a systematic cleaning of each room in the house. She was certain it would take her all month to accomplish this, but as long as Suzette did not complain that she was too slow, Anna was determined to see it done properly. Lunch and dinner were to be made in-between all that and finally the dishes washed and put away before she was allowed to go home each night.

However it was stated in no uncertain terms, that no matter what she might be doing, if there was even the smallest peep out of the boy in the attic room, it was _her _responsibility to drop everything and see that he was silenced immediately. It was very clear to Anna that Suzette had no wish to interact with Erik, now quite gratified she had someone she could send in her place. When Anna inquired as to when she should take Erik his meals, Madame Trouville actually looked momentarily perplexed, before waving her hand and saying whenever she got around to it was fine.

"The little monster hardly eats anyway," she said with a shrug of indifference. "I used to try forcing meals down him, tying him to his bed and shoveling the food in. But he would only throw it back up and then I had a horrible mess to clean. So I just put food in his room and let him decide when he is hungry enough to eat. Don't waste much time on meals for him, a bowl of porridge or a piece of bread will tide him over for days."

This information also rankled Anna, leaving her to conclude that Suzette knew nothing about the proper care of a child. Granted Anna had never been a mother herself, much to her infinite sorrow, yet even she knew that force feeding someone was the worst way to encourage them to eat. No wonder the boy was so thin! After such an experience, to him eating was probably considered a punishment. Anna made up her mind to change that immediately. Yet with her practically non-existent cooking skills, she was not quite sure how to go about it. This would require some more thought.

Since the house was very quiet at that time of the morning, Anna found she had plenty of opportunity for contemplative thought, spending most of it on the subject of Erik. Suzette was not an early riser and she had long since finished stoking the fire as well as filling the wood box before she heard movement in the house. Quickly she began working on breakfast, doing her best not to burn the toast before she slathered it with a hearty helping of creamy butter. She next prepared a cup of hot tea and placed it all on a tray and brought it out to the dining room where the Madame now sat waiting, reading the mail Anna had left on the table.

"Good morning, Madame Trouville," Anna greeted as she proudly set the toast and tea in front of her. "I hope you slept well."

"Tolerably well, I suppose," came her distracted response, not even looking up from her letter. "Have you seen to the fireplace yet?"

"Yes, Madame," Anna answered.

"And the wood box?"

"Yes, Madame, all filled."

"Then you may begin on the cleaning," Suzette informed her in a way of dismissal.

"Yes, Madame. I will start on it right after I see to Erik's breakfast," she assured her, receiving only a grunt of disapproval from her employer, yet she would not be deterred. Anna was going to make sure Erik received regular meals, even if he chose not to partake of them. At least _her_ conscience would be clear.

.

.

As she headed up the massive stairs carrying a plate of toast and milk, Anna wondered what kind of reception she might receive today. She could not imagine that Erik was content with staying in his room so much, and she was curious about whether he was ever allowed out. Madame had mentioned that he made messes, destroyed things and stole as well, prompting her to assume he must be let loose at least once in a while. Still, as she turned the key, remembering to give a polite knock before entering, she could not imagine it being very often.

"Good morning, Erik," she greeted him in a cheery tone as she walked to the small table and set down the tray.

The boy was sitting in very much the same place as he had been the day before, dressed in a different shirt and trousers - though still as ill-fitting as the others had been. However, he had his back to the wall this time and appeared to be reading a different book. Once more Anna looked about his room, not seeing any collection from which he might have taken it. Perhaps he kept them in the wooden chest or in the dresser, she considered.

"I brought you some toast and milk, I hope you like it," she continued pleasantly, desperately hoping for a response. Yet none came. He continued to look at the book in his lap, much like he did the day before. It was then that she noticed the swan she had made for him had been moved from the trunk to a small ledge in front of the boarded up window. A smile sprang to her lips as she recognized it as a place of honor, being one of the very few spots sunlight touched the dreary room.

Taking it as a good sign, Anna began to make her way around the room, straightening the few items she could find. A door to the right led to a private water closet which held another one of the new lavatories as well as a small sink and convenient hand pump for water. She was grateful to learn that the boy was at least afforded a few of life's basic necessities, including fresh drinking water and sanitation. Anna had not been looking forward to dealing with a chamber pot. Apparently the sink was also how Erik was able to rinse out his garments, for she noted the shirt and pants he had worn yesterday were now hanging up to dry across a makeshift line of string. Erik appeared to be amazingly tidy for one so young, leaving nothing for Anna to clean within the room. So, she decided to tend to his rumpled bed sheets instead.

"My mother always used to say that you can't start the day right without a neatly made bed," she informed him as she put the small cot to rights. It didn't take long and then she was once again left with nothing to do while she waited for him to acknowledge her. "I am afraid that I still do not know all the chores that need to be done, so maybe you could help me a little? Is there anything you have that needs mending perhaps?" She was really reaching now, for even if he answered in the affirmative, she doubted that she could successfully perform the necessary repairs. Yet when once again no answer came, she concluded that her efforts were in vain and headed for the door, only to be stopped by a small voice.

"Could…I mean…_would_ you show me how you made the swan?" she heard him ask. "Please…"

Anna's heart melted at the very moment. Not only from the simple yet plaintive plea, but also by the musical quality of his voice. It was like listening to a symphony when everyone playing was in perfect harmony. Like nothing she had ever heard before and she desperately longed to hear it again.

Turning slowly back to face him she smiled through her unshed tears. "I would love to show you how," she assured him. "I even know how to make a frog if you prefer one of those. But I fear I did not think to bring any paper with me today."

"I can use a page from this book," he quickly offered, reaching out to rip one from the tome.

"NO!" she yelled, taking a step closer as she held up her hand to stop him.

This seemed to frighten Erik and he leapt to his feet, the book he had been holding falling to the floor. He then cowered against the wall, acting as if he thought she meant to strike him. Anna was horrified to think her thoughtless reaction might have caused him to fear her, for she would never have dreamed of harming him in any way. She had simply not wished for him to ruin the book.

"I am sorry, Erik," she apologized in a softer voice, kneeling down so that she did not tower over him or appear imposing. "I did not mean to shout, I just do not think your…_mother_…would appreciate you destroying one of the books she has given you." Anna had stumbled over the parental term she assigned to Madame Trouville, but since Erik made no attempt to correct her, she could only assume that she had indeed guessed their relationship correctly.

Erik continued to stare at Anna for quite a while, sizing her up to see if he could indeed believe her words. She could tell that his trust did not come easily, a condition she imagined stemmed from Suzette and her deplorable treatment of him. His _mother_ had spoken of how she had tied him down, forced him to eat, locked him up and had even admitted to physically punishing the boy on occasion. How could he _not_ distrust adults after that, and her shouting at him had done little to help matters.

"_She_ did not give me the book," Erik spoke at last, relaxing just a bit as he stared down at the closed manuscript at his feet. "She does not know I have it," he confessed. "Besides, this one is stupid…it is not accurate." He gave it a bit of a kick and as he did, Anna was able to see the title. '_Anatomy and Human Physiology_' was scrawled across the cover. It was then she saw his hand move unconsciously to his mask, his small fingers touching his covered cheek and where his nose should have been.

"Oh," was all Anna could think to say. Did the fact that his own body showed signs of deviation from those described in the book lead him to view the text as flawed and inaccurate? She contemplated exploring the subject further but his continued words derailed that train.

"I would never have harmed any of the other books," he assured her, possibly meaning the one she saw him with yesterday. "They belonged to my father, not her! _ She_ does not read them…no, she never does anything but sit in her chair and stare at the walls…and drink. So sometimes I sneak out and take them when she is not looking."

So, Suzette was right, Erik did often make things 'disappear'.

"How do you keep her from finding them when she comes up to see you?" Anna asked, very pleased that he was at least talking to her about something…_anything._

"Oh, she never comes up to see me…unless I make her," he said with a shrug of indifference, yet his voice betrayed a hint of pain. "She does not care what I do, as long as I am quiet and don't disturb her." Suddenly he gave a sort of a laugh, yet it was more sly and mischievous than anything born of humor. "And when she does come looking for the missing things…she can't find them. She will never find them. If Erik wants something to disappear, no one will ever see it again."

His cryptic and almost sinister statement brought goosebumps to Anna's arms and she began to wonder just how benign this boy truly was. He seemed harmless on the surface, small and far too frail to ever be considered a true threat…and yet. Anna could feel something hiding beneath the surface, something almost frightening as it fought to get out.

"Well…you know, taking things without permission is not very nice," Anna told him, not wanting to upset Erik, but neither could she condone stealing. "Perhaps if you asked to borrow the books, your mother would give them to you."

"I have asked!" he replied, his voice taking on a tone of indignation as he spoke up in his defense. "I begged her over and over, but she always says no. She claims that I am too stupid to understand what they say, but she is wrong! She is the one too ignorant to even get through the first page. She does not deserve to have such things. They belonged to my father…and so they should now belong to me, not her!"

"What happened to your father, Erik?" she asked, wondering about the absence of a male figure in the home for the first time since she took the job.

"He…died," Erik replied in a small voice.

"I am very sorry to hear that," Anna consoled. "What was he like?"

"He was an inventor and an engineer," Erik revealed, looking around the room with an odd expression. "This was his office, or so _she_ told me. This was where he would design things. He was very smart; I have read some of his papers and a few articles that were published about his designs and creations." This time when Erik turned to her, she could see a touch of pride in his amber eyes. "He built this house you know. He put in the lavatories and plumbing as well as fitted it with gas lights…not that _she_ will pay for the cost of the fuel. She is letting the house crumble around her, allowing his genius to be destroyed. But I have seen his original plans, I know what he dreamed for this house to be and I have it all stored up here." Erik proudly pointed to his head as if it were the most secure bank vault in town. "One day I will finish his dream and build a home of the future."

"I am sure you will," Anna nodded, not doubting it for a moment. "He sounds like a very brilliant and kind man."

Yet as suddenly as he had opened up about his father, Erik just as quickly seemed to shut down, bowing his head as he almost whispered the next words.

"I…I never met him. He died before I was born," he revealed. "_She_ said that my father was the lucky one. That he allowed a stone wall to crush him, choosing to leave this earth before I came into it…that he was spared the horror of ever knowing what a monster his son turned out to be."

Anna could not help but gasp as she listened to his hurtful words. Why would a mother say such horrible things to a child? Yet the fact that Erik was locked up in the attic and wore a mask should have easily answered _that _question.

"Erik…that is a lie!" Anna told him. "She was very, very wrong to say such things. None of that is the truth."

Her words seemed to stun him, and he looked up at her in wonderment.

"She was…wrong?" he asked, it becoming quite apparent that the possibility had never occurred to him. As if Erik had always accepted her word as truth, never knowing he should…or was even _allowed_ to question her.

"Erik, when a person dies, it is usually not their choice. No one can pick their time to go, for accidents and sickness befall us when we least expect it," she reasoned. "Your father could no more control the time of his death than I can. And he certainly did _not_ die simply to avoid meeting you; it sounds like it was a horrible accident." She then gave him her warmest smile. "I am confident that if he had known you, he would have been very proud to have shared his books and knowledge with such a bright son."

Erik's mouth fell open and his eyes seemed to glaze over. Before Anna realized, tears began streaming from under his mask and dripped off his chin. Her few kind words had literally set the boy to crying! Had he never been shown kindness before? Her anger blazed against Suzette, and she had to fight the urge to march downstairs and slap her in the face for her cruelty. Yet that would accomplish nothing more than getting her dismissed and then where would she be…or Erik for that matter?

It took a few moments, but Erik suddenly seemed to comprehend that he was crying and turned away, reaching his small fingers up under his mask to shamefully wipe the evidence away. No little boy wants anyone to see them cry…and Erik was no different. It broke Anna's heart to see him affected so profoundly by her words and she too had to fight to keep her own tears at bay. It would do no one any good if they both broke down in a blubbering mess.

"I tell you what," Anna began, trying to steady her voice. "What if I see about getting my hands on some books, legitimately of course, and then I loan them to you to read? Would you like that?" When Erik turned back to her and nodded his head vigorously, she knew she had done the right thing. "What kind of books do you like? Is there anything that especially interests you?"

"I like architecture," he was quick to state, not having to think about it for more than a second. "Anything with buildings and plans…and lots of drawings of them!"

While Anna had thought he might choose adventures about pirates or knights in shining armor, Erik appeared to have a mind of his own, and he knew exactly what he enjoyed.

"Then I will do my best to find you books on that subject," she nodded. She was not quite sure how to go about it, but for him, she would think of something.

Anna rose to her feet as she looked around, once more searching for anything to do that might allow her to linger a bit more. Unfortunately, the room was so small and sparse that there was simply nothing left. Besides, her conscience pricked her a bit as she recalled that she had other duties that needed her attention, no matter how much she wished to stay and visit with Erik.

"I need to go now," she announced sadly as she turned towards the door.

"You…you will come back though….won't you?" he asked in a small but hopeful voice.

"Of course I will," she smiled, touched that he seemed to crave her company as much as she wished to give it. "I will be back up at noon with your lunch…assuming that you have finished your breakfast by then." She hoped this might prompt him to actually eat, if he felt her next visit was contingent on the fact. "And maybe by then I can find some paper and show you how to make a swan…or a frog. Whichever you would like."

This last statement won her a small grin from the boy, something that was obviously quite new to him. It was then and there that Anna swore she would make sure it became a regular occurrence. That Erik Trouville would soon have many more reasons to smile!

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Later in the day, while Anna was dusting the mantel over the fireplace, doing her very best to appear proficient at the task, she gathered up enough courage to ask Suzette for the paper.

"Pardon me, Madame," she began, pulling the woman's attention away from the ladies journal she was currently reading. "Might I ask if you have any spare paper?"

"Paper? For what?" she asked, her brow furrowing in a perplexed way.

"For Erik. He asked me to…" Anna began, but she never got to finish.

"No! He is not allowed to have paper nor a pen!" Suzette shrieked, slamming the periodical down on the small table by her chair. "The last time I gave in to his incessant whining for such things, he not only went through the entire ream in less than a week, with his useless scribbles, but when I tried to take the fountain pen away from him, he attempted to stab me with it! So no, you may not have any paper to give him and you are forbidden to ever allow him access to any sharp objects. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes, Madame," Anna stammered, once again taken back by how much this woman's descriptions of her son contrasted with what she herself had observed. It was impossible for her to imagine Erik doing such a thing! "Yet…he seems to have nothing to occupy his time, no toys, games or anything to play with."

"The little fiend does not play…he destroys!" she continued, once more speaking of Erik as if he were a menace. "If I did not keep him under constant lock and key, he would have long ago torn this house apart. Simply shutting the door was fine when he was a baby, but the moment he learned to toddle around, that was the day I installed the lock. If I were to give him any toys or books…or _anything_ to feed that devious little mind of his, there is no telling what he might do. Murder us all in our beds, I can only imagine! No, it is best that he have nothing that might give him ideas. He is far too stupid to know the difference anyway, so do not concern yourself with it." And as if she considered the conversation closed, she stood up and stretched, before grabbing a mostly full bottle of wine and heading up the stairs towards her room. "I am going to take a nap, summon me when dinner is ready, otherwise I do not wish to be disturbed."

Anna watched her disappear towards her room, wondering what Suzette had done so far that day which necessitated the need for rest. How much energy could she have possibly expended from simply eating breakfast and sitting around? Still, she was her employer, paying her a decent wage, so Madame Trouville could sleep the day away if she had a mind to and Anna had no say in the matter. At least she was no longer sitting there watching her every move, making her feel more nervous than she already was.

Yet her explicit command that Erik not be allowed any sharp or mentally stimulating objects frustrated, as well as frightened, Anna. Could she truly be reading Erik's manner incorrectly? Was he actually the type of child who would try and stab his own mother…with a fountain pen no less? Suzette must be exaggerating…she had to be. The little boy Anna had spoken with seemed lost, misunderstood and neglected beyond reason - but he was not wicked or violent…was he? She would bet her life that he wasn't. And in truth…perhaps she _was_ staking her life, and maybe even that of Madame Trouville, on her instincts alone. Still, Erik needed something to occupy his time, besides reading the books over and over that he had stolen from his mother. And while she was not about to go against a _specific_ order…perhaps there was a way around it.

* * *

**Soooo, are there any of you out there who have not already decided to hate Suzette? If so, now is your chance to jump on board with the rest of us!**

**I know I have made her pretty evil, but like I have mentioned to some of you...I have a "Line in the sand" that I do not intend to cross when writing about Little Erik's relationship with his mother. Things will not become TOO horrible. I don't think Anna would allow it!**

**So how did you all like hearing Erik speak for the first time? Pretty adorable hu? How are those feels treating you?**

**Please let me know what you thought. FP33**


	3. Chapter 3

**I am quite overwhelmed...and tickled pink...by all your wonderful reviews!**

**Keep them coming...they make Little Erik smile :o)**

**And did everyone notice the paper swan on my logo picture? I learned how to make it off of Youtube...er...uh, I mean I learned it from watching ANNA! ha ha.**

**Guest Reviews: **

**Guessst:** ha ha, love the idea of Erik drawing a mustache on Suzette's face! Yes, little Erik will one day grow up to be big Erik and he is known for saying frightening things. But we still love him!

**Guest 1:** I agree...Little Erik IS adorable!

**Guest 2:** That is very protective of you...and a bit violent, ha ha.

**Syrianlight:** Shhhhh, don't let people know you are reading in class...but...shouldn't schools encourage reading? So glad you are enjoying it. And I will do my best to keep my "most favorite author" status by posting on time three times a week! (or more)

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**Chapter 3**

**A Bevy and an Army**

**.**

* * *

When the large grandfather clock in the hall struck twelve, Anna put down the dusting rag she had been using and hurried to the kitchen. Digging through the pantry she found some cheese, smoked ham and bread, placing it all on a tray with a couple glasses of milk. Because sharp objects had been strictly forbidden around Erik, Anna wisely did not add any cutlery. Instead, she took a few moments to pre-slice and butter the bread as well as cut the meat and cheese into bite size chunks. Since Suzette had instructed that she not be disturbed until dinner time, Anna saw no sense in staying downstairs to take her noon-time break, choosing instead to share it with Erik.

On her way up she stopped by the fireplace in the parlor and grabbed a few sheets of old newspaper that served as fuel to start the fire. These were not the expensive blank pages that Madame Trouville had refused to give her; instead they were scraps, meant to be destroyed, unless she and Erik chose to give them new life. It was what she had originally used the day before, so why not put it to good use again? With a triumphant smile on her face, Anna headed towards Erik's room.

When she entered the small apartment, Erik was sitting at the little table, his eyes expectant and his hands folded neatly in front of him. He had been waiting…_for her_. She noted that the breakfast tray was now empty and the glass of milk completely gone. She truly hoped it had been deposited in his stomach and not down the facilities in an attempt to please her. Setting the new tray down she saw his eyes widen at the sight of so much food, causing her to laugh slightly at his expression.

"I do not expect you to eat it all," she explained, much to his apparent relief. "I thought I might take my lunch break up here with you. It is so very lonely down there in the kitchen all by myself." She could only assume it was twice as dreary for Erik to be up here all alone. "And look," she said, holding up the newspaper. "I found something we could use to make more animals with."

This announcement brought an adorably lopsided grin to Erik's bottom lip and Anna wondered what a full smile might look like on the boy. His mask was very obstructive when it came to deciphering facial expressions but his eyes left little doubt to what he was feeling at every moment.

"Can we make a swan now?" he asked, jumping up as he hurried to her side, his little hands reaching out for the precious paper.

"After we eat lunch," she informed him, moving it out of his reach and placing it on the table. Anna watched as his quick mind processed her instruction, his eyes crossing from the desired paper to the tray of food and back several times. Would he throw a fit? Would he scream and try to harm her for delaying his desires until after lunch? Anna held her breath and waited.

After what seemed an eternity, Erik turned and grabbed hold of his trunk in the corner of the room and began to scoot it over to the table, pushing it in place before climbing up and sitting down. It took a moment for Anna to realize he had done all this in order to allow _her_ to sit in the only chair the room had to offer, and she was genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. Occupying the seat next to him, she passed him one of the plates that held the food she brought. He was very tentative about eating, taking small bites and looking away when he was required to lift his mask slightly to sip the glass of cold milk. It bothered Anna to see him struggle simply to eat a meal, but she remained quiet, not wishing to embarrass him or make him feel even more uncomfortable. When at last the food was gone and the glass empty, Erik turned and looked at her expectantly.

"Now can we make the swan?" he almost begged, the uncertainty in his tone telling her that he was half afraid she would tell him no.

"Of course," she nodded, placing the used dishes back onto the tray and moving them out of the way. "I promised we would, didn't I? And I never break a promise, Erik."

Once again she could see his mind spinning, filing away her words as if they were a complex math equation for which he had just deciphered the formula. The boy was truly a wonder. As fast as lightning, Erik jumped off the trunk and ran to the window, retrieving the swan before scampering back and placing it on the table in front of her - almost as if providing her a reminder as to what it should look like.

With a warm smile, Anna picked up one of the pages and began to fold it slowly, explaining each crease and tuck as she went, Erik scampered to his knees and leaned over the table with his eyes trained on her every move. When the creation was complete and a newsprint swan sat on the table, looking identical to the one beside it, Erik could hardly contain his excitement. He was almost twitching with eagerness to touch it and then produce one himself. As Anna handed him the little creation she heard him give a true laugh for the first time. And if she thought his _voice_ was divine, Erik's laugh was more heartbreakingly beautiful than she could have possibly imagined, like the sweetest bell she had ever heard. The things that child could do with his voice were nothing short of miraculous and she found herself wondering what he might sound like if he were to sing. Anna knew very little, she freely admitted that, but the one thing she_ did_ pride herself on was her knowledge of music. Truly, in all her years she had never encountered a little boy so vocally gifted; why practically any performing choir in the country would have been honored to have one as remarkable as Erik performing treble in their choir. Yet understanding his shy nature and his reluctance to trust, Anna knew she would have to move slowly with Erik and not fawn over such things too soon.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that Erik was halfway through folding a second piece of newspaper by the time she noticed. He was amazingly quick with his fingers, turning the paper over as he lined up the creases precisely as he had seen Anna do. Within no time at all, a third swan sat beside the first, causing Erik to practically beam with delight as he leaned back and surveyed his accomplishment. For a boy who read Latin and books the size of bricks, he was taking much more enjoyment in this simple project than she had originally thought he would.

"Show me how to make a frog!" he begged as he perched half on the trunk and half on the table in anticipation. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added in a shy voice, "Please?"

And so she did, folding corners and tucking paper until he knew the intricate workings of the frog as well. The rest of the hour was spent watching him make more of the paper animals until there was a bevy of swans and an army of frogs spread across the table. When the paper ran out, Erik hunched down and placed his chin on top of his folded arms and just stared at them, his eyes as bright as she had ever seen them. He did not speak; he simply gazed at the paper menagerie, reaching out occasionally to reposition one or two that seemed to him an inch out of place.

Anna could have sat there and watched him all day, but for the sound of the grandfather clock downstairs tolling the hour, reminding her that she needed to get back to work. The house would not clean itself and Anna needed to start thinking about what she might attempt to make Madame Trouville for dinner. Erik might not be a fussy eater, but Madame Suzette very well could be.

"I must go now, Erik," Anna told him, picking up the tray as she headed for the door.

"But…you will come back, right?" he asked, lifting his head and looking at her eagerly.

"Yes, I will," she assured him. Anna wondered if he would require such a guarantee each time she walked out his door, and that idea saddened her.

"Then I will be here when you do," he nodded, turning his attention back to his collection as he continued to examine each one with an exacting eye.

Anna did not know whether to laugh or cry at his ironic statement. Erik must be aware that his mother forced her to re-lock the door each time she left, and yet he had spoken of being there to greet her when she returned, as if he actually had any say in the matter. Was he truly living in his own little world, one where he was not locked up like some animal, but instead running wild and free? A part of Anna desperately hoped so. Giving him one last smile, she left the room and headed back downstairs, pleased with what she had accomplished that afternoon.

* * *

Dinner had been nothing short of a disaster! When she placed the charred looking meat and the soggy vegetables before Suzette, the woman had turned up her nose, pushing the offensive food away from her.

"What is this?" she accused, pointing at the barely recognizable substance. "It is positively inedible!"

"I…I had some difficulty with the stove," Anna confessed, looking down at the floor in shame. "I am not yet familiar with how hot it gets or how long to leave things in the oven." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I promise that I will improve."

"I certainly hope so! Too many meals like this and I will begin to resemble the boy – skin and bones!" she huffed, reaching for her glass of wine. "Just bring me some ham and bread, I assume you can manage _that_ without ruining it."

"Yes, Madame," Anna replied as she hurried back into the kitchen before her employer saw the tears in her eyes. She was not only embarrassed over her lack of ability but also petrified that Madame Trouville would terminate her for wasting food. Once she had prepared a nice display of the cured meat and bread, she brought the offering out to the dining room. Suzette only gave a slight nod as the trays were switched out, but when Anna turned to head back to the kitchen with the first meal, she was stopped.

"Take that plate up to the boy," she instructed. "No sense in throwing it out."

"But…you said it was inedible," Anna protested.

"For me perhaps, but it is perfectly suitable for that little monster," Suzette scoffed. "If you dared serve such slop to me, I see no reason why you shouldn't give it to him as well. Now go!"

Anna jumped at her harsh command and slowly began her way to the attic, staring down at the unappetizing meal the whole way. When she stepped inside the room she did not even raise her head to look at Erik as he practically bounded off the floor where he sat and came over. He must have noticed her hesitation and it caused him to pause, staring up at her with searching eyes.

"What is wrong?" he asked, suddenly taking a cautionary step backwards.

"I…I brought you your dinner," she answered in a very small voice. Yet one more look at the offering in her hand, as well as the perplexed eyes of the boy in front of her, made her burst into tears. Quickly she crossed the room, placing the tray on the table and plopping down in the chair. She pulled the bottom of her apron up to dab at her watery eyes, trying her best to calm herself. Anna was positively humiliated.

"Anna?" Erik asked tentatively. She could tell that he was completely unsure how to react to the situation, approaching her slowly from the side. He must have known that tears meant sadness or pain, but she was not sure if he had ever seen anyone cry before…other than himself.

"I am sorry, Erik," she sniffed, trying her best to right herself for his sake. "I don't mean to act this way, really I don't. It is just that I am such a complete failure when it comes to cooking. I burned the Madame's dinner and she scolded me for it."

Erik seemed to calm a bit at her admission and even raised one of his spindly little hands towards her shoulder, perhaps to offer a comforting pat. However, he must have thought better of it and pulled it back quickly before the touch could be performed.

"She scolds me all the time," he told her, apparently hoping that this information would cause her to feel better. "Don't let it make you sad."

"But then…then she would not let me throw the food out," Anna continued, getting to what she considered the worst part. "She told me…to bring it up to you…for _your_ dinner." This admission brought on a whole new flood of tears as she imagined the poor lad trying to force the burnt fare down. A minute passed and no words were said, but when she was at last able to silence her grief, Erik spoke up.

"That is all right, Anna," he told her. "I don't think I could eat even if I tried." His hand moved to cover his stomach, as if to convince her of his words. "I think I would burst if I ate anything else."

Anna looked at the little boy for a long time, feeling every part of her aching to pull him into her arms and hug the stuffing out of him.

"Oh, Erik, you are such a dear," she told him, reaching up to stroke the side of his masked face. When he jumped back at the gesture, she quickly lowered her hand. Perhaps it was still too soon for any kind of contact on her part. He was still too wary and although Anna had made great strides, she realized she could not push him too fast. Instead she attempted to convey her affection in words. "I truly appreciate you saying that and trying to make me feel better. I promise to fix you an extra nice breakfast in the morning to make up for it."

"Just not too big of one…all right?" Erik begged, still holding his supposedly engorged stomach.

This made her laugh which seemed to brighten his mood as well. It was then that Anna noticed every one of the little paper creations they had made earlier were scattered strategically around the room. Everywhere she looked there was a swan or a frog staring back at her; on the window sill, the table, the wooden chest, even one nestled in the middle of his little cot. It was as if Erik had spent the past hours redecorating his room with his newly fashioned friends. It really was quite endearing.

"Thank you, Erik," she told him with a wide grin. "You really did make me feel better. But now I must go again. I have to finish the dishes and get home before it gets too late."

"Where do you live?" he asked, cocking his head to one side, as if the world outside his attic room was a mystery to him.

"I rent a small room at a boarding house at the edge of town," she explained, realizing just how pathetic it sounded, even to her ears. "It is about a half an hour's walk from here."

"Do…do you like it there?" he probed.

"It suits my needs, I suppose, but I can hardly say I like it," she confessed.

Erik looked around his little room and nodded. "I understand," he replied, sounding much older than his young years should have allowed.

"Yes…I suppose you do," Anna agreed, feeling like they were two peas in a pod. "So I will see you tomorrow, then," she confirmed as she rose to leave. "Have a good night's sleep and I look forward to visiting with you in the morning."

He seemed sad to see her go, but she noted that this time Erik did not beg for reassurance that she would indeed return. Could it be that a fragile bond of trust was forming between them? Perhaps they were making progress after all.

* * *

The next few days went very much like the first. Anna did her best to keep up with her cleaning duties, including making meals that did not offend Suzette, while spending as much time as possible with Erik. With the Madame napping a good portion of the day – suspected to be brought on by heavy amounts of alcohol – it was not difficult to sneak away and visit with the boy. She justified this by reminding herself that Suzette had instructed that this was her main responsibility…to see that Erik was kept quiet. And what better way to accomplish this than to sit and talk with him?

By the end of the first week she had learned quite a bit about Erik, his mother and his late father. It appeared that Monsieur Trouville had died eight years ago, leaving Anna to conclude that her estimation of Erik's age was somewhat correct. If Suzette's husband had died before ever seeing his son, as his mother had so cruelly told the boy, that would mean Erik could be as young as seven and three months, yet no older than eight. Unfortunately, neither age matched with how small he appeared in stature, causing Anna to blame Suzette's mistreatment for his abnormal size. Erik needed fresh air, sunshine and much more nourishment than he was being allotted in order to catch up to the height and weight of a healthy adolescent. And while she did try, Anna found that other than the occasional soup or sandwich, she continued to be a miserable failure at cooking. Why had she not taken any classes on the subject? _Because her Walter would have died of humiliation if she had expressed interest in learning such menial tasks,_ she reminded herself with a sad shake of her head. Yet in the end, what good had come from playing the perfect little wife for him? Was she not at this very moment left alone, working her fingers raw in order to remain off the streets? She had been far too young and trusting, believing in silly fairytales about true love. What a fool she had been!

Yet despite her failures in the kitchen, which often earned her a plethora of unkind words, Madame Trouville never actually threatened to let her go because of it. Either the woman had no account for taste or she simply felt that a burnt and bland meal made _for_ her was still better than doing it herself. Anna was happy to continue working. She was to be given Sundays off as her one day of leisure, and while that was good to know, Anna would have much preferred it be a weekday instead. For there were no stores open on Sunday in order for her to purchase anything; all clothing shops, libraries and even the local book stores were all locked up tight. She had hoped to pick up some reading material for Erik, but every weekday nothing was open until after Anna had left for work and were long since closed by the time she was allowed to go home for the day. Leaving her no time to obtain the desired books Erik had requested.

Knowing her limited funds would not have allowed her to purchase more than one book anyway, she struck upon a new idea. So a few days into her second week, Anna mustered up the courage to ask Suzette about _her_ books.

"Madame," she began, doing her best to appear calm. "I have noticed you have quite an extensive library."

"Hmmmm," the woman muttered over the magazine she was currently reading, appearing to be only half listening.

"I was wondering - if you didn't mind that is - might I borrow a book or two?" Anna continued with her cleaning, hoping it did not appear her request held the amount of importance it truly did.

"Borrow a book?" Suzette asked, suddenly looking directly at her with apparent surprise. "Why would you wish to read anything?"

"I have always had a desire to better myself," Anna said with conviction. "And when I was dusting the bookshelf I found several I would dearly love to inspect." That was not a lie since mixed in with all the architectural books that belonged to Erik's father, there were a few novels as well as some volumes dealing with history.

Suzette was quiet for a moment, studying Anna through narrowed eyes, possibly contemplating how this might in some way affect _her_. At last she gave a sigh and returned to her magazine.

"I suppose it would do no harm," she conceded. "Yet the books cannot leave the house, you must do your reading here and only on your breaks. I will not have you wasting your time when you should be working, is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Madame," Anna agreed. "Thank you very much." She then turned back to dusting the window sill and smiled slyly to herself. She knew there had to be a way around anything, if she tried hard enough. And since the books would be going straight upstairs to Erik, they would not be leaving the house, just as Suzette had stipulated.

Anna silently congratulated herself on gaining another victory.

* * *

When Suzette went up to take her usual nap that afternoon, Anna hurried to the bookshelf and began to search the titles, looking for something that might interest the knowledge-thirsty child. Architecture…with pictures, was what he had requested. She found many books on the subject, but it took her several tries before she located one that filled both criteria. Tucking it under her arm she grabbed the lunch tray she had prepared for them and scurried up the stairs to surprise Erik.

He had been beside himself with joy, once more practically twitching with excitement as he eagerly opened the book and began to read. She tried to lure him away from it with mention of the lunch she brought, but Erik could not be swayed by anything once he was engrossed in his father's book. Anna quickly realized that the unique boy had a very singular mind, able to block out all his surroundings should he become enthralled in something. The origami animals were a fine example of that. For when she had managed to bring up more newsprint, he had begun to create different, and more elaborate, animals of his own design. She had sat at his little table for almost an hour one day just watching his hands fashion an entire ark of creatures, from a portly little pig to a long-necked giraffe. She could only assume he was crafting them from memory, possibly having seen a book with pictures of different animals once. Yet the entire time Erik did not speak to her, completely ignoring her as he worked. When she would try to engage him in conversation he would either pretend he had not heard her or often shush her by putting up a hand in request for silence. At first it annoyed her, but the more she watched him, she could see that genius such as his took complete concentration. Thus she remained quiet.

Anna ate her portion of the lunch in silence once more, deciding that if she wished to speak with Erik while they shared a meal, it was best to not present him with a gift until just before she left. She filed _that_ bit of knowledge away for next time.

And so the weeks continued, her life becoming a pleasant routine. It would have been truly perfect if it were not for Madame Trouville's abrasive nature and the fact that Erik had to remain locked in his room. Still, she hoped her presence in the house was doing the boy some good. At least he now had a friend, someone to talk to and who showed some interest in his health and well-being - for he certainly got none of that from his mother. Anna had decided early on that it was best that she do what she could for Erik without the Madame knowing. For if she were to ever confront the woman about her obvious mistreatment of the boy, she would surely be tossed out on her ear with no hope of finding another position…or of helping Erik.

However, at nearly a month into her employment, all thoughts of keeping silent flew out the window…as Anna arrived to work that fateful morning!

* * *

**OH, NO, what did I just do? Was that a cliffhanger? Bad FP33!**

**So...how did you like Erik and Anna's animal creations?**

**His aversion to too much food and how he made her feel better about her cooking skills.**

**Suzette's usual horribleness?**

**And what do you think is going to happen now?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Boiling Point**

* * *

Anna was late that morning, not due to any fault of her own, but because of the weather. The previous night a violent summer storm had blown in, bringing with it torrential rain and gale-force winds. Streets were flooded, leaves and limbs littered the ground and even a few trees had fallen victim to the merciless squall. Several times that night, as Anna lay awake trembling under her covers, she had worried that the roof covering the boarding house she stayed at might actually blow away. Yet, morning came and besides the need for some minor repairs of missing shingles and a broken window, her temporary domicile faired tolerably well.

Getting to work had proven a challenge, having to avoid streets that were impossible to traverse with all the water, and having to step over large branches as well as completely go around other devastated areas. She gave a sigh of relief when Madame Trouville's house came into view and she saw that it too had weathered the storm successfully. The place might look run down, but Erik's father had done an admirable job in its construction – its sturdy foundation strong enough to weather a beating. Many of the trees that skirted the house had not fared as well and she could just imagine that Suzette would send her out into the yard to collect all the broken limbs and then put them to use in the fireplace the following week. Anna didn't mind the idea; as long as it was not raining on her, she found she enjoyed the outdoors. Being outside was something she experienced very little of while growing up, as she practiced her craft for hours and hours inside each day. Anna took a deep breath and smiled, for even though the storm had been very destructive, it also brought with it a cleansing effect. The wind had blown out all the stuffy and stagnant air that had hovered over the town for days, leaving behind only the sweet smell of promise.

However, Anna's smile faded as she made her way into the house and headed to the parlor to stoke the fire. For instead of still being abed, Suzette was lying across the settee, a damp cloth covering her forehead as if she were nursing a headache.

"Madame, is everything all right?" Anna asked, hurrying to her side.

Suzette raised her hand and removed the cloth, revealing a weary expression and dark circles under her eyes. She had obviously received very little sleep the previous night. In fact, upon further inspection, the woman was still in her nightgown and robe with a pair of flimsy slippers covering her feet.

"Do I appear to be all right?" Madame Trouville barked at her housekeeper. "Does the fact that I am down here in the parlor, nearly dead from exhaustion, not reveal to you my present condition?"

"What happened?" Anna pressed, looking around the room for any sign that an intruder had broken in or a disaster had somehow occurred. Yet all she saw was the usual mess that Suzette left in her wake; empty wine bottles, scattered magazines, discarded mail…and yet…there _was_ something out of place. Lying on the floor beside the sofa was a small white mask!

Anna's heart leapt to her throat as she bent down and picked up the scrap of cloth that clearly belonged to Erik. Fear filled her eyes as she saw what appeared to be a smear of blood on the white fabric. _Dear God, no!_

"Madame, what is the meaning of this?" Anna all but screamed as she held the mask out for her inspection. "Why is Erik's mask down here…with blood on it?" She was finding it difficult to breathe and her eyes strayed towards the stairs, but she feared her legs were not strong enough to carry her upwards without an idea of what to expect.

"He would not shut up!" Suzette whined in an exhausted tone. "The storm was so loud, first with the rain and then the wind causing the trees to strike at the house, next the lightning started along with the thunder…it made such a terrible racket. However not half as much as that blasted boy, screaming up in his room like the devil himself had a hold of him. I told him to be silent! That if he did not quiet down I would truly give him something to cry about, but he refused to listen!" There she stopped speaking, as if she had adequately explained herself and her actions, but Anna was not at all satisfied.

"What did you do?" she screamed at her, reaching out and grabbing hold of the woman's house robe and jerked her up slightly. "Why is there blood on his mask!?"

Suzette was visibly stunned to have Anna treating her this way, yet she stammered out a response.

"He wouldn't shut up so I slapped him!" she yelled back. "I warned him, but he never obeys! Parts of his vile little face are so paper-thin that it tears quite easily, that is probably where the blood came from. I took his mask and told him I would not give it back until he was silent! I then came down here in order to get away from his incessant caterwauling." Her eyes grew cold and narrowed slightly as she looked down at where Anna still clutched her robe. "Now unhand me, unless you wish to be dismissed for your insolent attitude!"

Anna did indeed let go of Suzette, but only so that she could race to the stairs and hurry to Erik's room. Frantically digging for the key she unlocked his door and pushed her way inside, not even bothering to knock like she usually did. Standing in the middle of the room she surveyed the devastation that surrounded her. Much of it had been done by the storm; the crisscrossing boards nailed over the windows had done little to stop the wind and rain from coming in. Epically after it appeared the trees had beat against them, completely destroying the already cracked glass in the panes. Leaves and water stained the floor, the rain appearing to have soaked much of the room as it blew in without mercy. Anna could see Erik's precious paper animals scattered around, many soaked through and destroyed as they lay in the puddles of rain water. Yet the broken chair and overturned table looked to be the work of a frightened and angry child, venting his hurt and frustrations on the wooden objects when he could not reach the true perpetrator…_his mother_. How could she have been so heartless? It was obvious that the storm had frightened him, and though Erik was a very bright and exceptional child, he was still just that…_a child!_

Anna scanned the room once more and when her eyes fell upon the huddled form of her small charge, tears instantly sprang to her eyes. He was curled into a ball at the very edge of his pathetic little cot, the threadbare blanket pulled tightly around him as he hid his face against the wall. Again, if it were not for the slight shaking of his shoulders, betraying the fact that he was weeping softly, she might have thought he was no longer among the living.

"Erik?" she spoke softly as she approached, the floorboards creaking as she went.

"Stay away!" he called out, his voice muffled from both tears and the fact that he continued to keep his face covered.

"Erik, darling, it is Anna," she explained, thinking perhaps he assumed it was his mother, returning to do further damage.

"Don't come any closer, Anna," he ordered, stopping her cold by the use of her name. So he _did_ know it was her and yet he did not wish for her to come near.

"Erik, please, let me help you," she cajoled, wiping away her own tears as they obstructed her view. "Your…_Suzette_…told me what happened. I just want to help."

"NO!" he once more instructed, this time sticking his arm out with his hand held up in a warning gesture. "You can't see! You can't see, because if you do…you will go away!"

Now she understood. Erik did not want her to see his face…the face that was no longer covered by the mask she still held in her hand. In all the weeks she had worked there, not once had she seen what lay behind the white cloth he constantly wore. She had wondered, she had imagined, but she had never mustered the courage to ask. But truly…how bad could it be?

"Erik, I am not going to leave. I only want to see if you are hurt and tend to your wounds." Anna continued to speak in a calming tone, stuffing the cloth mask in her apron pocket as she once again began to move closer.

"The others left…they all did!" Erik sobbed, his bony shoulders shaking even more now. "Just as soon as they saw my face they screamed and ran, never to return. And _she_ blamed me, every time one of them left, she blamed me…and my…_my face_!"

From things Suzette had said over the past weeks, Anna knew that she was not the first person to have applied for her position. There had been others over the years, some who stayed a week, others a day and a handful who had left before the interview was even complete. She had originally assumed their wish to leave was due to their employer's surly attitude, yet here was dear, sweet Erik shouldering the blame for their hasty departure upon himself.

Anna was now standing directly in front of the little bed and even though he was still signaling for her to stay away, she would have none of that. She had thought Erik needed time to become familiar with her, to be comfortable in her presence, but she was wrong. What Erik needed was _love_. And whether he wanted it right now or not, she was bound and determined to give it to him! So sitting down on the bed beside him she reached out and pulled the pathetic little bundle of tears into her arms, wrapping them around him as if she would never let go.

At first he struggled, making sounds that she associated with fear and panic, yet as each second crept by where she did not do him harm, he began to settle. Until at last, after a good minute or two of her constant rocking and soothing words, he melted into her embrace and cried all the more pitifully. His face was still hidden from her view, now buried in a mixture of his own hands and her arms, but she made no attempts to sneak a look. One step at a time, she told herself, reaching up to stroke his patchy hair. He was indeed a neglected and broken child, one she dearly prayed that she would be able to fix if given enough time.

Not knowing what else to do, Anna began to sing a soothing lullaby to him as she rocked him back and forth, much as she recalled her own mother doing when she was very little. She had hoped it might cause him to relax, perhaps even fall asleep, for she could tell he was beyond exhausted. Instead he seemed to stiffen in her arms, his head tilting upwards as if he were straining to hear every note and word. Anna kept singing, the lyrics and music feeling foreign on her lips after being absent so long, but the emotion was there…and the heart. She sang for Erik, giving life to the words as she had always been taught to do, until the song was over and she let her voice fade into the silence of the room. Erik was no longer crying, in fact he was as still as a stone and she wondered if she had somehow done more ill than good.

"What…what was that?" he asked in a tiny voice, still muffled.

"It was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I had a bad dream," she explained, still keeping him close to her body, his own feeling ice cold.

"That…that was singing?" he sounded almost shocked, in awe even. "That is what singing sounds like?"

"Well, in theory," Anna found herself smiling at his question. "I am afraid I am a bit rusty and my voice will never be what it used to…but yes, I was singing." This was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Anna was shocked by Erik's lack of knowledge about the simplest of things. Perhaps he had read about singing, about music, but unless someone demonstrated it, how would he ever know? It was apparent that no one had ever thought to sing a lullaby to him as a baby…for Anna could hardly imagine Suzette doing such a thing.

"Can you…can you do it again?" Erik asked, wiggling slightly so that he might hear better this time.

"I would be happy to, but first I need to see if you are hurt," she insisted, beginning to pull at him in order to get a look at his potentially damaged face.

"NO!" he cried again, burying himself deeper into her chest to hide.

"Erik, I must look at your face," Anna insisted. "I will not scream and I will not go away once I have seen it. I promise. And remember, Erik, I always keep my promises." She hoped that this assurance would win his trust, praying that they had built up enough of a rapport to allow him to believe. And slowly…very slowly, she began to think he might. At first his little body relaxed, as if he had given up fighting and was contemplating her words. Then with a heavy sigh, one in which she read so much fear, he began to pull back. He kept his head bowed, his long patches of hair falling over his face and obstructing her view, but he sat there, unmoving as he mustered the last of his courage. Finally, with a stubborn tilt of his chin, he raised his eyes to hers and waited. Waited for the screams…waited for her to run.

_Anna was stunned_. His poor, little face was a ruination of skin, bone and muscle. There were patches of thickness here and spots of paper thinness there, all combined with sharp looking protrusions of bone and twisted muscle. It was nothing short of a roadmap of pain and misery and Anna couldn't help but shed tears for all that he had suffered…for all that he _would_ suffer. For even if Erik were ever to escape the loneliness of this small room and the scorn of his mother, he would forever carry this brand of shame. What kind of life lay ahead for him?

"Oh, Erik," she wept, reaching out once more and pulling him to her in a tender embrace. "I am so sorry, my darling. So very, very sorry."

Erik was quiet, he didn't struggle and he didn't move, he simply allowed her to hold him as she cried. After she had shed many tears for his dark fate, Anna once again pulled him back and looked down at him, doing her best to smile this time. Brushing the stray locks aside she stared into his amazing eyes and saw complete disbelief.

"You…you did not scream," he stated, choking out the words. "You did not run."

"I promised that I wouldn't," she reminded him. "And I always keep my word." She then cautiously reached out and tipped his chin up, surveying the damage that had been done out of cruelty the previous night. Once more, Erik froze at her touch, his amber eyes growing wide as she so casually touched that which he expected her to be frightened by. It was difficult to see what was a new injury and what had been there for years, but the scabbed over blood alerted her to the area she needed to concentrate on first.

Getting up and heading to the lavatory, Anna pumped some water into a pan, then returned to sit beside the boy, a wash rag in hand.

"Tell me what happened," Anna instructed, as she began to clean the damaged area ever so gently. After a bit of thought, Erik revealed his sad tale.

"The wind made the tree hit against the house, breaking the windows so that the rain came in," he explained. "I tried to stop it, covering it with anything I could find, but the wind was too strong. I tried to save my animals, but they blew around and fell into the puddles, turning them to mush." He sounded so terribly sad about this and she watched a tear slide down his mangled cheek over the loss. "But I saved yours," he assured her, brightening just a bit as he reached inside his shirt, producing the swan she had created for him that first day. "I made sure it stayed safe."

Anna was deeply touched, that of all his possessions, Erik had chosen to rescue her gift, cradling it protectively against his own body to keep it dry. The rest of the animals could be recreated, but he seemed to value that one above all others.

"That was very kind of you to preserve it that way," she commended, not knowing if she should smile or cry over the amazing gesture.

"If it had just been the rain and wind, I would have been fine," he continued bravely. "But when the lightning and thunder began, I…I got scared. It was so loud and the flashes hurt my eyes. I…I started to cry, begging for…for help, but _she_ only yelled for me to be quiet. I beat on the door and called out, hoping that someone would come…but when she did, I wished she hadn't. I had made her very angry and she screamed at me, then…then she slapped me across the face…hard. I fell down and hit my cheek on the edge of the chest, cutting my face. Next she ripped my mask off and told me I would not get it back until I learned to be quiet."

It was then that Anna remembered that she still had Erik's mask, and pulling it out of her apron pocket she pressed it into his trembling hands, watching as his fingers fisted around the cloth.

"I tried to be brave…I really did," he assured her, his tears now running even faster down his battered face. "But I was just so scared…I didn't want to be all alone up here anymore…not all alone."

Anna had felt her anger rise with each sad word he spoke, with each tear he shed and each quiver of his misshapen little lips. By the time he had finished his story, it had reached its boiling point. Anna Silberg saw red! Common sense left her at that point, along with all the warnings she had given herself about not losing her temper and speaking out of turn. Forgetting that she was the employee and that Madame Trouville could easily terminate her, Anna had the undeniable need to speak her mind.

"No one should be left alone when they are scared!" she assured him, gritting her teeth as she ground out the words. "And no one deserves to be treated like your mother has done to you! I think it is high time someone informed her of this!" Standing up, Anna marched towards the door, flinging it open so hard that it hit the wall behind with a loud bang. Without slowing one bit, she exited the room, not bothering to lock it as she marched down the stairs.

She found Madame Trouville still sprawled out on the sofa, looking pitiful and frail, but she was not fooling Anna! This woman was a brute and a bully and she had seen more than enough evidence of her cruelty.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Anna screamed at the woman, causing her to jump in fright, nearly falling on the floor in an attempt to rise quickly. "He is a child and yet you raise your hand to him in anger!"

"It is none of your business what I do with…_with him!"_ Suzette countered, not willing to even acknowledge their familial relationship. "You are hired help - that is all! You have no say in the matter."

"You charged me with his care! You pay me to look after him and yet you say I have no right to see he is treated with kindness and compassion?" Anna spat back. "He was frightened! The storm was blowing right into his room, but you never once checked to see if he was all right? And when you did enter his room…instead of comforting him, you struck him? What kind of monster are you?"

"Monster?" Suzette gasped, looking both offended as well as outraged. "I am not the monster here…_he is_! Do you think I wanted a child that looked like that? Do you think I wished to be ostracized by everyone in this town simply because I had the misfortune of being saddled with a hideous freak of nature? I could have let him die as a babe…I could have sent him away to a lunatic asylum, but no…_I kept him_. I fed and clothed him, took care of the wretched thing until he was old enough to see to his own needs. I even paid a fat, old priest from the nearby parish to see that he got a basic education. And what do I get in return? Not a moment's peace or ounce of respect from that worthless brat!"

"That is your child you are talking about!" Anna gasped, shaking her head in pure disbelief. "All he wanted was someone to protect him from the storm."

"That is your job now!" Suzette countered.

"How could I, when I was not here?" she questioned. "I can't be present every minute of every day and night."

"You could if you moved in and took your job seriously," Madame Trouville suggested, her tone becoming thoughtful, liking where her mind was taking her. "You want to see that he is better cared for? Then leave that place you are living now and move into one of the rooms upstairs. That way when he cries at night, _you_ can be the one to see to his needs…not me!"

Anna was stunned. Move in? Live in the same house with a woman as wicked and cruel as her? And yet…it would mean more money, with not having to pay for the room at the boarding house. She would also save herself an hour walk to and from work each day. But best of all…she would be here to look after and protect Erik.

"I will not increase your salary," Suzette continued, quick to make sure Anna did not expect such a thing. "Free room and board should more than make up for any extra work." She then crossed her arms over her chest and gave her a haughty look. "Well…it is a fine offer, perhaps too generous for the likes of you, but it would appear you are all I have to choose from. Are you going to take it or not?"

"I…I will," Anna nodded, still stunned by the sudden turn of events. "I can pack my things tonight and move in tomorrow."

"Fine. You can occupy the second guest room at the top of the stairs. It is not terribly fancy, but I am sure it is better than you are used to." Suzette had managed to regain her composure and was now back to her normal haughty and arrogant self. "Now…you have wasted enough of my time on this nonsense. I think it is high time you saw to my breakfast and began your work for the day." She then gave Anna a glare that would have melted glass. "And if you _ever_ dare to speak to me in such a manner again, I will see that you are not only let go, but spread such gossip about you that you will never be able to work in this town again. And I can see it done, do not doubt me. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind!"

Anna was speechless and could only nod as she turned and left the room. What had just happened? One moment she was rebuking the woman for her mistreatment of Erik, fully expecting to be dismissed for her reprimand, yet the next thing Anna knew…she was moving in. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she found she had to hold on to the railing in order not to fall over in shock.

A bit of movement caught her attention and she looked up, seeing the astonishment in Erik's eyes as he stared down at her from the top floor. He was on his knees, his now masked face peeking between two of the rungs with his little fists wrapped tightly around them. He must have snuck out and listened to what they had said. At first Anna felt remorse over the cruel things he must have overheard from his mother's lips, yet as she stared up at him, she suddenly understood what the look on his face instead conveyed …wonderment, disbelief and gratitude. No one had ever defended him before. No one had dared defy his tyrannical mother on his behalf, and in his young and innocent eyes, Anna had been transformed into his champion and protector. _Well if that was what he needed from her_, Anna thought to herself …_then by God that is what she would become!_

On that day, Erik's lonely little life took its second turn for the better.

* * *

**So...how do you like THEM apples? Erik likes it just fine!**

**So what is your hate level on Suzette NOW?**

**How did you like Anna's reaction to Erik's face?**

**Erik's first hug?**

**His reaction to MUSIC and singing?**

**How he saved her swan from being destroyed..sniff, sniff**

**Anna telling Suzette what-for!**

**Anna moving in?**

**Please tell me!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Your reviews have been WONDERFUL!  
**

**Guest Reviews:**

**Guest S: **I see that you have just started reviewing, yet because you are doing so as a guest, I cannot respond back anyway but here to let you know I am getting your reviews and loving them. Thanks and keep them coming! I am so happy you like my little Erik and how he put all the little paper swans and frogs around his room. He is very adorable, he really is. Thanks for your past, and hopefully future, reviews! FP33

**Guessst:** Wow, that was some awesome theory you had there! I won't say yes or no about it, but nice thinking there! And I think it would take only ONE paper animal to drive Suzette crazy...she is pretty much there right now!

**Tam:** I have read one or two, but most never finish them...I wonder why...little Erik so just so darn fun to write for!

**syrianlight:** Maybe if they make enough animals and wish REALLY hard, they will come alive and attack Suzette? Awww, I loved the idea of Anna on a ladder! So I plucked at your heartstrings...nearly made you coo ...put a lump in your throat and almost had you in tears? My work is done!

**Guest 1:** Well...my theory is that no one REALLY knows what Suzette is hiding in her house...there are rumors, but nothing confirmed. More on that later... So glad you enjoy my plot line!

**E.P:** I am so happy it is living up to your expectations! Thanks!

**Guest 2:** I hope there are not TOO many feels, ha ha.

.

.

**Chapter 5**

**Monsters, Mirrors and Tantrums**

* * *

Everything changed after that. Anna and Erik were both very pleased with Madame Trouville's new arrangement. As promised, Anna packed her bags and moved in the following day, feeling rather snug in her cozy little room, even if it was a bit run down. Suzette never spoke of the awkward exchange they had shared, obviously preferring to pretend it never happened. Anna did her best to act civil and bite her tongue, while Madame Trouville remained her normal abrasive self. Yes, things were indeed back to normal.

Erik, however, had changed. The boy acted as if he had gained a new outlook on life, his attitude and confidence having lifted considerably. He was much more talkative with her, he smiled more often and when she offered innocent touches of affection, he no longer shied away. Yet while he accepted them eagerly, she could tell that he was still hesitant to initiate such contact himself. Anna hoped, that given time, this too would improve.

It was this advancement in their relationship that prompted Anna to offer her assistance to see that he was better groomed. She obtained a couple sets of appropriately sized clothes from an inexpensive second hand shop while running errands in town for Suzette, and then set out to give him a haircut.

At first Erik was hesitant, not quite sure if he recalled ever having been given one. Anna was certain that he_ must_ have, or his hair would have been down around his knees by then. Yet as she trimmed, she began to wonder if his hair simply did not grow at a normal rate. With the way it hung long in places and short or non-existent in others, he could very well have never required one before this. Though Anna did not claim to be a barber, in the end she felt she did an adequate job, leaving Erik looking quite dapper with his hair cut short and slicked back - thanks to a bit of water and the use of a comb. She was able to cover and hide all the bare spots that way, and to look at him now, no one would guess he did not possess a full head of hair. Yet when she offered him her hand-mirror and asked if he would like to see for himself, he recoiled in horror.

"NO!" he cried, reaching out and slapping the offensive object away. "Mirrors are bad! Mirrors are where the monster lives!"

"Erik!" Anna gasped, unsure what upset her more, the now shattered mirror on the floor or the fact that he had reacted so violently towards it. "There is no such thing as a monster living inside a mirror. Who told you such nonsense?"

"It is true…I saw it myself," Erik persisted, retreating to the far corner of his room, a safe distance from the broken shards. "That is where_ it _lives, behind the glass. Once, when I had been very bad, _she_ showed it to me…and I will never forget how horrible it was. She told me if I was wicked, the monster would come and take me away. You should never touch one, Anna…I don't want the monster to get you!"

Anna stood there and stared at him, completely aghast at how serious he was. Could he truly believe an evil creature lived behind a simple piece of glass, ready to jump out and spirit him away? Did he not realize that mirrors only reflected what was put in front of it? From many of the things he had said, Anna knew that Erik realized his face was different, that it was ugly and caused people to scream and leave. But perhaps his fragile little mind did not, _or could not_, reconcile itself with what he had seen in Suzette's mirror that day. The poor, dear boy.

Granted, Anna had come to understand there were gaping holes in Erik's education, but did he truly not realize it was his own face he had been looking at? So many amazing and complex ideas were like child's play to Erik's gifted and talented mind, yet others, many of which Anna considered basic concepts, seemed completely beyond his ability to grasp. Yet his heartless mother had so obviously engrained this cruel myth into his head, that monsters lived in mirrors, causing Anna to mentally add one more thing to the list of lies Suzette had told him. One day she hoped to explain them all to him, to reveal the truth behind his mother's deceitful threats. But for now, with Erik so frightened, she thought it best to dispose of the mirror and deal with that a later time.

Anna had been continuously sneaking books up to Erik, allowing him plenty of time to read through them multiple times before replacing them on the shelf and bringing him new ones. And while he seemed to enjoy these greatly, she could see the longing in his eyes to not just read about architecture…but to create his own as well. But how? Mortar, bricks and wood were not something she could allow him access to, even if she were able to get her hands on such things. But perhaps there was something she could get him, if only she could find a way around the Madame's ridiculous orders.

His mother had forbidden him to have paper or a pen, citing the _stabbing incident_ as the reason. While Anna firmly believed that to have been an innocent mistake blown out of proportion at best, she dared not defy her. However, it appeared that Suzette only objected to Erik being given paper because she felt he wasted it on silly drawings, going through a costly ream too quickly. So, perhaps if it was Anna's money, and not Suzette's, that was spent on the gift, there would be no reason for complaint. And one did not require a sharp fountain pen to write and draw, reasoning that a charcoal pencil would be more than adequate for the talented boy. Oh, yes, Anna was very pleased with her ability to bend her employer's orders without literally breaking them.

Thus, the next time Suzette requested that Anna make a trip to town for supplies, she made a quick stop at one of the specialty shops. She hid the paper and pencil in her room, contemplating the best time to give him the gift without the chance of Suzette discovering it. If his mother had noticed the paper animals in his room the night she had stormed up there in anger, she never let on. Yet little figurines made of newsprint were easier to overlook than sheets of stark white paper scattered around his attic prison. Anna would have to be careful, and warn Erik to be so as well.

Her opportunity came when, to her utter shock, Suzette suddenly announced that she was going out. Madame Trouville never left the house…_ever!_ Yet, she had apparently been invited to a special luncheon in Paris with a few of her girlhood friend and would be gone for the entire afternoon. It was only an hour away by train, requiring very little expense, and with Anna there to mind the boy, she apparently saw no reason why she should not attend. So with a determined tilt to her chin, something Anna begrudgingly admitted Erik appeared to have inherited, Suzette donned her best frock, arranged her hair in a pleasing coif, and headed out the door. Watching from the window, Anna waited until she disappeared around the corner in the direction of the train station before she leapt into action. Scurrying up to her room she grabbed the gift, still wrapped in plain brown paper, and headed for the attic.

Erik was, as usual, sitting on the floor with a book in his lap, thoroughly engrossed in another one of his father's beloved manuals. It amazed her to think of all the information that boy was absorbing and she was curious to know if one day there would no longer be any room left in his brain for even one more scrap. When she opened the door and stepped inside he looked up eagerly, always delighted when she was able to visit with him. As he saw the smile on her face grow bigger and the package she clutched to her chest, he tilted his head quizzically to one side.

"I brought you something, Erik," she announced, stepping over to the table and newly replaced chair. Erik immediately closed the book and scrambled up, eager to see what she held. "But before you open it, you must promise me that you will be careful not to let your mother know I gave these to you. You must hide them so they will not be discovered. Do you understand?" she warned.

Erik solemnly nodded his head, realizing the consequences if they were both caught defying his mother.

At first Anna had worried that Suzette might unexpectedly walk in on him on day while he was reading one of his purloined books or creating a newspaper animal, but she soon realized that Erik was no fool. He could distinguish the difference between the sound of her approaching versus that of his mother quite easily. His sharp mind and keen ears were no match for Madame Trouville and Anna was certain he could have all his prized possessions hidden away in seconds should he believe Suzette was the one heading upstairs. So once Anna knew her words had been heard, as well as understood, she slid the bundle towards him, anxious to see his reaction to her gift.

At first he just stared at it, eyeing the string that held the wrapping around it with a confused look upon his face.

"What is it?" he asked finally, looking up at her in all innocence.

"You have to open it and find out," she laughed.

"Open it? You mean there is something more inside?" his eyes lit up with intrigue as he reached out carefully and began to undo the knotted string.

It was then that Anna's smile faded and her laughter died. Would she ever stop being surprised by how many firsts she witnessed this boy experiencing? Obviously he had never received a wrapped gift before, not understanding that the brown paper and string was not the actual gift. The concept of something far more interesting being hidden inside had completely escaped him.

His little fingers made quick work of the string and wrapping, and when he saw the stack of clean, crisp paper and charcoal pencil he actually took a step back with a gasp of surprise.

"For…me?" he asked, his eyes darting between Anna and the paper several times.

"Of course for you," she assured him. "But remember your promise, you must not let you mother see these."

Once more he nodded his head silently, his eyes now focused on the precious sheets that promised to fuel his overactive imagination. He reached out his hand and ran it over the stack almost reverently; treating it more like spun glass than pieces of wood fiber and pulp. Before Anna could react, Erik had flung his arms around her waist and was hugging her tightly, thanking her over and over, his little voice muffled against her stomach. Anna had never known a boy to be so utterly grateful for every little thing given him, making her all the more determined to see that he received much, much more.

Yet, what shocked her the most, was when he picked up the stack and ran over to the wall, bending down as he reached out and pressed a spot on the paneling. There was a soft click and to her amazement a small door opened, revealing Erik's elusive secret hiding place. No wonder Suzette was never able to find the things Erik had taken, his little vault being virtually impossible to detect. Stepping closer, Anna could see that the books he had taken before she arrived were still inside along with his one other treasure; the first paper swan she had made him. Lifting it gently he placed the ream inside and set the swan on top, but not before he slipped one precious piece of the paper from the stack and gripped the pencil in his eager little hand. Shutting the panel, it magically disappeared from view, becoming yet again an undetectable part of the wall. It was with deep pride that Anna recognized the trust he was placing in her by revealing his hiding place this way. Then, with all the enthusiasm a child his age possessed, Erik hurried back to the table and set about his work.

Anna knew the moment the pencil touched the paper that he was lost to her, completely immersed in his own little world, allowing his ingenious mind to create beautiful buildings that demanded to be drawn. Attempting to speak to him now would be an exercise in futility, for he would not hear another word until his masterpiece was complete. So Anna simply smiled, more than pleased with her endeavors, and headed out the door to begin her work for the day.

* * *

Hours had passed and it was approaching lunch time when she heard it, the sound of a crash followed by a cry of anger and rage that emanated from the small room upstairs. Startled, Anna almost dropped the teacup she had been washing and jerked her head towards the frightening sound. _What in the world_, she gasped as she dried her soapy hands and sprinted for the stairs, taking them two at a time as the shouts seemed to escalate in intensity. When she at last unlocked the door and rushed inside, she took an involuntary step back at the sight before her.

Erik was incensed, his little fists balled in anger as he struck at every surface he came into contact with. His eyes were a mixture of frustration and tears as he stormed around the room, screaming at the top of his lungs. Scattered around the room were five…no, six sheets of paper, each one covered with drawings and figures that Anna could never hope to understand. Yet there was nothing she could discern that might have set him off, nothing that could have turned the normally sweet and composed boy into a raving lunatic.

"It is not right!" he screamed between bursts of rage. "It simply won't work! I can't make it right!"

"Erik?" Anna entreated, trying to keep her voice calm as she took a step forward. Yet when he rounded so suddenly, his little body appearing to make a violent move in her direction, she stumbled backwards. Unable to catch herself in time, she tripped on her own skirt, falling to the floor with a cry of pain as her posterior came in contact with the wood.

Whether it was the noise she had made or the sight of her there in his room, something snapped Erik out of his mad fit, immediately causing him to stand there, stock-still and staring at her. She watched as several emotions crossed over his eyes, first confusion, then shock and ending with utter remorse. Reaching up he gripped the sides of his head with his hands and crumpled to the floor in heap of tears.

"Erik is sorry, Anna," he sobbed. "So very sorry…please don't hate him…he is sorry," he repeated over and over as he rocked back and forth allowing his tears to flow.

This was not the first time Erik had referred to himself in that manner, though it unnerved her greatly every time he did. Anna had come to realize that it was his way of gaining distance from things he found unsavory about himself. If he felt he did wrong or had unpleasant thoughts, it was almost as if he were blaming it on someone else…another part of him he wished would go away. It cut her to the core to hear him now so wracked with guilt that he felt the need to speak of himself this way, especially when there was nothing he had truly done wrong.

"Erik, it is all right," she assured him, adjusting her position until she was on her knees, yet remained a few feet away. "Everything is fine now. No real harm done." Thankfully that was true, while his table had once again been overturned, at least the chair was still in one piece. Anna was not sure Suzette would agree to giving him another if she learned he had broken this one as well.

"No! Erik was bad!" he argued. "He was bad and he…he scared you…Erik hurt you!"

"That is not true!" she insisted, pulling her hands up to her cover her aching heart at the pain she heard in his voice. "You startled me, that is all. I am not angry…I am not hurt." She then reached out and opened her arms wide, inviting him to fill the empty space. "I could never hate you, Erik. I love you."

Anna had never said those words out loud before, though many times over the past two months she had thought them in her mind and heart. Still, saying them now had a huge impact on the boy…as well as the effect she had desired. His sobs stopped and his little head slowly rose so that his eyes could meet hers. Utter disbelief was mirrored there as he stared at her, his mouth gaping open in shock. It took all of ten seconds before he launched himself from his sitting position and fell into her awaiting arms, enveloping himself in her loving embrace.

"You…you love me?" he asked, still sounding as if the concept was too impossible to believe.

"I love you so much I often think I will burst," she told him, her own tears now running down her cheeks. "You have become so dear to me, Erik. I could not love you more, even if you were my very own child."

Erik was still and silent for a long time and Anna knew his mind was thoroughly processing the information, as he so often did. When he spoke again, his words were precise and deliberate.

"I wish_ you_ were my mother," he informed her. "I wish I had been born to you and not to…_her_!"

Anna gave a heavy sigh and began to run her hand up and down his back soothingly.

"I wish that as well," she admitted. "With all my heart I wish that could be true. But you see….I cannot have children, Erik. As much as I would love to be blessed with children of my own, I can never be a mother."

Erik pulled back, looking up at his beloved nanny, seeing the pain in her eyes over the admission. At first this seemed to confuse him and Anna could almost read his thoughts, trying to decide if her statement was true. For in his limited experience with mothers, the boy had more than likely concluded that children were a burden to them, that no woman wished to be afflicted with such a thing.

"Why?" was all he could think to ask.

"I don't know why," Anna admitted, for even the doctors could not explain her inability to conceive and her desperate husband had had her examined by quite a few. "It has always been my deepest desire to be a mother, to love and nurture a child, watching them grow to maturity. I would give anything to have such a privilege, yet it would appear that such a joy is simply not meant for me."

"But you _should_ have a baby, Anna! You deserve one!" Erik insisted. "You are kind and gentle, you say nice things and you know how to make me stop being sad. You sing to me and you make me happy. You deserve to be a mother, ever so much more than _she _does!"

"That is not for me to decide, Erik," Anna told him with a sigh of deep regret. To be a mother had been her dream, her one and only wish, ever since she was a child herself. She had prayed every night during her marriage that such a blessing would come. Yet with the passing of each year, her hope, as well as those of her husband, had dwindled into despair. "And it is not healthy to dwell on things we cannot have. That will only make you bitter of heart and it is not wise. Besides, I have you to love, and for me, that is enough." Anna then re-positioned Erik in her arms so that she was cradling him with his back to her chest, his head resting in the crook of her forearm. "Now…why don't you tell me what it was that had you so upset."

Erik gave a heavy sigh and reached out to snag one of the pages lying on the floor. He held it up so that she could see and pointed to a portion of his drawing.

"I can't make it work…the keystone has to be placed here, but there is no way to distribute the weight evenly until that time, making my plans incomplete and….not right," he explained, with all the authority and knowledge of a master mason.

"I see…" Anna began, squinting at his drawing in hopes that anything he just said would suddenly make sense. But she knew Erik's designs were far beyond her ken, so instead of offering him suggestions, she instead gave him support. "I know you will figure it out eventually, I have confidence in you, Erik. Just in the meantime, do not let your temper get the better of you. I know you can get frustrated when things do not work out the way you would like them to, but getting angry and screaming will not solve the problem. Stop, calm down and think about it logically. Then, with a clear head you will find the answer. All right?"

"Yes, Anna," Erik nodded, turning around to face her and looking duly contrite. "I am sorry I lost my temper and startled you, making you fall down."

"I do not blame you, but thank you for saying so." Anna reached out and cupped his masked face between her hands, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Everything is right as rain." She then moved to stand, her attention diverted so that she missed the heartbreaking expression in his eyes over the bestowing of his first kiss. By the time she looked back, Erik had managed to compose himself, wiping away the tears that had sprung to his eyes. "Now, I have to get back to the kitchen, I left a sink full of dishes soaking and I will have to boil more water to finish if I do not hurry. Will you be all right now? No more angry outbursts?"

"No more," Erik promised, standing straight and placing his hands respectfully behind his back.

"Excellent. When I am finished I will be right up with lunch." Looking around the room she gave a few_ tsks_ of disapproval. "I hope that you will see that things are cleaned up before I return."

"Yes, Anna," he once again assured her. She gave him a wink and a smile before turning to leave, but his voice stopped her. "Anna…I…am very sorry you can't have a baby like you want. But…but I will always… l-l-love you…just as if I were your own son."

Just when Anna thought that child had taken all there was to give of her heart, she discovered another piece he had snuck in and stole. She could not speak, or form the right words to thank him for what he had just given her. So instead Anna smiled and nodded, before exiting the room and silently crying all the way downstairs.

* * *

**Well there you have it...someone used the L word on Erik. *sniffle, sniffel***

**So are you happy he has paper and a pencil now?**

**What did you think of his very Opera Ghost temper tantrum?**

**How he wanted Anna to be his mom...and the fact that she can never be one herself?**

**He also got his FIRST kiss and she said she loves him!**

**PS...did you notice NO CLIFFHANGER? How nice am I?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow...was it just me or did that weekend drag on forever?**

**It did allow me to play catch up on all your lovely reviews though!**

**And now for a nice LONG chapter...as well as the answer to a few of your burning questions!**

**Guest Reviews:**

**syrianlight:** I am so happy you enjoyed the exchanges of the "I love yous". Erik tried to hide his O.G. self as long as he could, but a tantrum was inevitable. More cuddles on the way.

**Mystery:** I am glad you agree with my diagnosis as to why Erik talks in the third person. Sorry every chapter feels like a cliffhanger...but that is a very nice compliment!

**Guessst:** See what a good shot I am...I was AIMING for the feels! And yes, Erik deserves ALL those firsts!

**Jobizzle:** Thanks! I just wanted to see what a 'loved little Erik' looked like! And a master Erikographer? I LOVE IT. That will be my new title!

.

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**Chapter 6**

**The Price of Paper**

* * *

When Suzette arrived home that evening she seemed in a much better mood. She did not berate Anna or criticize her once that night or the following day, leading her to believe the trip to Paris had actually made her employer…_happy_. It was no surprise, when just a few days later, Suzette announced that she would be making another trip to visit with her friends, once more leaving Anna in charge of Erik.

By the time Anna's third month of employment rolled around, Madame Trouville was spending almost every weekday away from the house. Sometimes she would go to Paris, other times to Beauvais or even as far as the coastal city of Rouen. Anyplace that got her out of the house and the narrow-minded small town that knew far too much about her business and rumors of the child she kept in the attic.

This got Anna thinking of what Suzette had told her the day after the storm. While she still did not approve of the mother's treatment of the boy, Anna had to give Madame Trouville credit for at least _keeping_ him. Many women in her place might have indeed dumped their deformed child alongside the road to perish, maybe abandoned him to an orphanage…or worse still, turned him over to a lunatic asylum! Anna knew exactly what kind of horrible treatment went on in a place like that; for her former husband's great uncle had been remanded to one after he had been deemed insane. The one time they had gone to see him had been more than enough to turn Anna's stomach at how the patients there were being treated. Many were locked up or shackled to their beds, left alone and screaming to be set free. She had seen evidence of vicious bruises and deep cuts on the patients, both young and old, as they walked down the hall. Each set of lost eyes looking back at her with a pleading expression, begging for help that she longed to give, but couldn't. When she questioned her husband about the treatment there, he confessed that while that was one of the more reputable establishments, there were much worse. Places where they treated the patients no better than animals, claiming to be giving them _treatments_ as they beat and whipped the hide from their backs. Ice baths, starvation and pulling out all their teeth to avoid them biting the doctors were only some of the common practices. All of this caused Anna to suffer from nightmares even weeks after the visit.

So when she thought of what _could_ have happened to Erik, had he ended up in a place like that, she chose to not begrudge Suzette her daily trips of freedom. For had she chosen, Erik's life could truly have been a living hell, and while his past had not been ideal, she knew it could have been _worse._ Yet now with Anna there, Erik was clean, given better fitting clothes, a new blanket for his bed, as well as decent food – well, at least as much as she could manage with her still budding cooking skills. But best of all…he was loved and cared for by Anna herself, and that made all the difference. So whatever reason Suzette had for keeping Erik and reluctantly raising him - be it a spark of humanity or even guilt - Anna had to admit she was grateful.

.

.

Anna did her best to keep Erik entertained with books on architecture as well as others she felt might be of interest. One day while dusting the top shelf she stumbled across one on ventriloquism. She had once seen an actor use this talent during a performance and Anna had always been intrigued. Tucking it away, she scuttled it up to Erik the very next chance she got. As expected, Erik was enraptured by the idea and was soon fully engrossed in the book. Anna had no idea just how much effort the young boy had put into learning the skill, until one day when she had come up to tidy his room, she was startled by a voice that appeared to come from one of Erik's newly formed paper animals. It was a duck, sitting on the wooden chest who spoke to her, very plainly, asking if she would be so kind as to move him over to the table. At first Anna feared she had lost her mind, placing her hand over her heart as she felt it racing from the sudden fright. Yet as she turned to look at Erik, prepared to ask him if he too had heard the seemingly impossible voice, she could see that he was laughing quietly from behind the book he held up to cover his face. It was then she realized what kind of trick the little imp was playing on her.

"Please move me to the table," the little duck begged again, pulling Anna's attention back to the motionless paper figure. "It is so far away and my legs are terribly short."

In truth, the duck had no legs at all, but Anna chose to ignore that fact and instead answered back kindly.

"Why of course, Monsieur Mallard, I would be happy to help you across the great expanse of the room," she assured him, gently picking him up and placing him in the location he desired. "However, next time you might think about using your wings. They would be much more useful than your little webbed feet."

Her short conversation seemed to tickle Erik even more and his laughter was now hardly contained as he shook from the effort to keep it in.

"And me, Madame," came another voice off to her left, this time emanating from a little newsprint dog. "Could you please see if there is a bone in the cupboard for me? I would so love to gnaw on one."

"Who do you think I am?" Anna asked, placing her hands on her hips as she stared at the paper pup. "Old Mother Hubbard?"

This was Erik's undoing and he fell backwards onto the floor in a fit of giggles, holding his stomach as he tried to catch his breath.

"It was me, Anna!" he announced proudly, once he could speak clearly again. "I made them talk…it was me!"

"Erik, you are indeed a marvel!" she complimented him, smiling at his look of pride. "Is there truly anything that you cannot do?"

Her question seemed to halt his merriment and he stared at her for a moment in thought before answering in a quiet voice.

"I…I can't leave this room," he replied, his head lowering as his fingers aimlessly picked at the cuff of his pant leg.

Anna felt terrible, not only for turning his laughter into sadness by her thoughtless words, but also since up until then she had done very little to remedy that predicament. But no more! She vowed that she would find a way to allow the boy more freedom…and soon!

.

.

As Madame Trouville's trips became more frequent and eventually routine, Anna decided it was time to risk allowing Erik out of his room and giving him access to the rest of the house - at least while Suzette was away. It took a bit of coaxing before he would dare, always worried that his mother might come home unexpectedly and catch him disobeying, possibly punishing Anna for his defiance. Yet with persistence, Erik gained the courage to exit his attic prison and venture downstairs. Anna did all she could on those precious days they shared together to make up for all the years of isolation and neglect Erik had suffered, though she knew nothing could ever erase the painful memories.

Ever since Anna had sung Erik his first song, the boy had been enthralled with that form of art. It was as if he had been waiting all his young life for someone to open the door and allow the glorious gift of music to enter his lonely world - and once that door had been opened, there was no way it could ever be closed again. Erik was insatiable, requesting that Anna sing for him every day if she had time. He would beg to hear long songs, short ones, opera, ballads, hymns, dirges…it really didn't matter _what _she sang, he loved it all. However his favorite was that original lullaby she had shared, and over and over he would implore her to sing him to sleep with those soothing words. As time went on his demands quickly became too much for Anna's damaged vocal cords to take and she began to realize his thirst for music would soon be beyond her capability to quench.

Thankfully the answer to her prayers soon presented itself, when one day Suzette sent her to the cellar to locate an old box of keepsakes. Anna had never been down there before and was amazed at the amount of old furniture and boxes stored in the large, dusty room. It took her quite a while to find the desired item, spending almost half an hour opening boxes and moving things until she discovered it at last. However, in the process she had uncovered a beautiful pianoforte, hidden beneath a drop cloth and years of dust. Anna had trained to be her own accompanist and as she let her fingers press down on the keys, hearing the clear notes that rang out, she knew the instrument was whole and sound. This could be her salvation where Erik's need for music lay. With this, she could teach him to play his own songs, not relying on her to sing for him all the time. So with the box in her hand and a smile on her face, Anna hurried back upstairs, eager for the chance to show Erik her find.

The moment Suzette left the house the following day, she wasted no time unlocking Erik's door and leading him down to the cellar. For a boy who had spent far too much time isolated in his small attic room upstairs, the cluttered area below the house seemed to oddly fascinate him. Yet when Anna pulled the cloth off the piano, it quickly became the only thing that held his attention.

"It is a pianoforte…and it plays music," she explained, pressing the ivory keys in a pattern to create a tune. Erik's eyes widened with excitement as he ran to where she stood.

"Do it again!" he begged, his own little hands hovering over the instrument as if afraid to touch such a wonder.

"Here," she instructed, sitting down on the bench and patting the spot next to her. "Let me show you how it works." She began slowly, naming the keys and notes as she played, demonstrating how to use the pedals below and having him repeat each instruction back to her. In no time at all he had memorized every key and was practicing scales like an advanced student. "But just knowing the notes is not enough," Anna continued. "Now you need to mix them up, put them in an order that is pleasing to the ear and you will have music." Anna quickly demonstrated this by plucking out a short tune. Once more Erik's eyes followed her every move, then he mimicked it perfectly until they were both playing in synchronization.

Anna was completely amazed! She had expected Erik to excel at the piano, the same as he did with every other artistic endeavor he tried…but this exceeded even _her_ expectations. Erik was nothing short of a child prodigy, a genius in diminutive form and as she sat and watched the boy master in one hour what had taken her months to learn, she knew she was in the presence of greatness.

Perhaps if Suzette knew of Erik's talents, she might come to appreciate the amazing son she had. Yet, to alert her to such things would necessitate that they confess their sins of going against her orders, especially the one where Erik was not allowed to leave his room. No, it was best that they kept it a secret, just between the two of them. And as she watched him play, Anna was only too happy to hoard the gift of his music all to herself.

She had left him alone down there the rest of the day, happily playing and learning more and more through trial and error. When the clock struck five, Anna knew it was getting close to the time Madame Trouville would be coming home, so she headed back down to fetch Erik. Once again lost in his own little world, she had to practically shout in order to gain his attention. When she told him of the time, he looked almost frantic, unwilling to leave his newfound friend. She could tell his mind was spinning, trying to figure a way to get the piano up to his room, but even Erik quickly saw the futility in that. Then suddenly something must have occurred to him.

"Wait! I will be right back," he ordered, racing up the cellar steps and out of her sight. In less than a minute he was back down, out of breath and clutching a few pieces of his precious paper and the pencil in his hand. Kneeling on the floor he placed them on the piano bench and expertly drew every key of the instrument onto the pages. Once he had it all mapped out, he looked from his work to the original object and back again, making sure he missed nothing. Satisfied with his rendering, he allowed Anna to guide him back upstairs, shutting the cellar door behind them.

Thus began Erik's days and nights of composing. When he was confined, unable to get to his new great love, he would use his drawing to create wondrous music that he would play first in his mind, and then on the piano when his mother would leave. Anna showed him how to go about writing down his songs on paper, drawing a blank music staff and demonstrating how to transcribe each note so that it could be easily understood and played back later. It was not long before Anna saw a definite need to purchase some actual music sheets for him, otherwise the boy was going to go through his drawing paper in no time at all. The acquisition of several more lead pencils would also be a must.

.

.

So it was that Anna found herself at a little music shop the next time she was asked to run errands for Suzette. The little bell tinkled merrily as she entered and was greeted by a wide smile from the man behind the counter.

"Ah, my first customer today," he informed her cheerfully. "What can I do for you, miss?"

"I am hoping to purchase some blank sheets of staff paper," she explained. "I am afraid I am on a tight budget, but could you please tell me how much it might be for a ream of it?"

"A whole ream?" the man's eyes widened as he glanced towards the counter behind where Anna stood. "Well, I only have a few dozen sheets of it on the shelf, not much call for the blank pages these days. Anyone with aspirations to write their own tunes eventually move to Paris, hoping to strike it rich. Lately, people only come in looking to purchase music that is already written." The merchant then seemed to get an idea and held up his hand. "Yet…wait here, I just might have something…" he told her, disappearing into the back of the store.

Anna busied herself looking around, finding charcoal pencils at a decent price and was just picking out a few when the little bell on the door gave a jingle, signaling a second customer. Looking up she met the eyes of a kind looking man a few years her senior. He respectfully tipped his hat as he entered and headed over to where the stringed instruments were kept, looking through some replacement parts for a cello. Soon the shopkeeper returned and set a large, heavy looking package on the counter, dust billowing into the air as he did.

"Just as I thought," he reported proudly. "I received an entire ream of the stuff years ago and it just got buried. It was a specialty order you see, that is why I never put it out on the shelf, but I suppose it is safe to do so, now that the person who ordered it is long gone."

"I do not wish to take another person's order, Monsieur," Anna protested, though she dearly wanted the paper. "What if he returns for it and finds that you have sold it?"

"Ahhh, that is the thing," he said with a sad expression. "The gentleman who placed the order died many years ago, thus the reason for the dust." The shopkeeper waved his hand a bit in the air to dissipate the haze that surrounded the bundle of paper. "Monsieur Trouville was my best customer too, in here at least twice a week ordering different instruments, piano wire and blank music sheets by the ton."

"Monsieur Trouville?" Anna asked, her eyes growing wide at the mention of that name. "Henri Trouville?"

"The very same," the man replied in surprise. "Might you have known the gentleman?"

"No," she assured him with a shake of her head. "I only know of him by reputation. You see I am currently employed by his widow, Madame Suzette."

At the mention of her name, the shopkeeper's expression grew cold and he gave a snort of derision.

"I pity you then, my dear," he informed her. "For that woman is nothing short of a…" he stopped there, clearing his throat as a sheepish look crossed his face. "Forgive me, I should not speak ill of one you are employed by. It is just that I have never liked that woman and could not for the life of me understand why a man as decent and good as Monsieur Trouville would have taken up with the likes of her."

Anna leaned in closer and whispered quietly, afraid that somehow Suzette would overhear if she spoke too loud. "To be honest, Monsieur…I can barely tolerate the woman myself." Her confession brought a smile to the man's lips and they both chuckled quietly over their private joke. "Still, employment is scarce and beggars can't be choosers," she added with a shrug. Anna then pointed to the dusty bundle of paper and asked, "How much do you charge for the music sheets?"

The shopkeeper did not have a chance to quote a price, for at that moment the other customer in the store stepped forward, breaking in on their conversation.

"Allow me to cover the cost of the paper, Mademoiselle…?" he offered, leaving his question open in hopes she might provide her name.

"It is _Madame_ Silberg," she informed him, putting emphasis on the Madame part, thinking it might deter him if he were fishing for a social introduction. "And I am quite capable of paying for my own goods."

"I meant no disrespect, I assure you," he declared, taking a step back as he held up his hands in innocence. It was then that Anna spied the gold band on his left hand, signaling to her that he was a married man and causing her to relax slightly. "I just happened to overhear you mention that you work at the Trouville house, and I was hoping my offer would afford me a chance to speak with you."

"Ah yes," the shopkeeper spoke up, turning to Anna as he hurriedly explained. "Jacques Collier, here, knew your employer's husband very well. They were in business together, if I remember correctly."

"Well, I was Henri's lawyer, I would hardly call us business partners," the kind faced man laughed. "I never understood half the things that man dreamed up and created; I would have been lost and completely useless if I had joined his company."

"You knew him well then?" Anna asked, suddenly very interested in anything this gentleman had to say.

"I considered Henri Trouville one of my closest friends and I grieved dearly at his sudden death." Monsieur Collier closed his eyes and looked downward for a moment, obviously still affected by the loss. "If it will not offend you, Madame, I would very much like to purchase the paper in exchange for a few minutes of your time. I have a few questions about my friend's affairs that perhaps you might be able to shed some light upon." He held up the cello strings he had come to purchase and nodded to the ream and pencils, continuing to smile at Anna while the storekeeper wrote up the two purchases together. Once he paid, Monsieur Collier carried her parcel outside, gesturing towards a small bench under a tree where they might sit and talk.

Anna felt a bit uncomfortable about allowing him to obtain the goods for her, yet to be honest, from the amount of money she saw the gentleman hand over, she would not have been able to afford the paper in the first place. Suzette might pay her regularly, but her salary certainly did not amount to very much, and the expensive sheets would have set her back quite a bit.

"I must apologize once more for eavesdropping on your conversation, but I have not had such an opportunity as this in many years," he explained. "As Henri's friend and lawyer, I was left to handle his estate and financial affairs when he was tragically killed eight years ago. It was a shock to us all, for you see the building he had been hired to renovate was structurally unsound and one of the support beams gave way, bringing half the ceiling and one of the stone walls crashing down on him, crushing and killing him instantly. I was the one left with the responsibility to see that his final wishes were carried out. When he first drew up his will, Henri had stipulated that his architectural company was to be split amongst several board members, with some shares allotted to key employees. But a little over a year before his death he came to me and had me alter the section pertaining to his personal assets, leaving everything, all his money, stocks and bonds, to any future heir he might produce. I thought him mad for doing so, for at the time there was nothing that led me to believe his wife was with child or that they were even close to expecting children. Yet, Henri would not be dissuaded, having me draw up the papers and signing them that very day."

"That is very strange indeed," Anna commented, this information leaving more questions in her mind than answers.

"When he died a year later, I went to Suzette and questioned her about this, explaining that the will was ironclad and there was no way she could contest it," Collier continued. "I asked her point blank if there was any chance that Henri had fathered a child before his death, but she refused to answer me and I was rudely tossed out. I became very suspicious when Suzette shut herself up in the house, a veritable recluse these past years. I will not lie and say that the rumors I have heard bandied about town have not concerned me, yet I fear none of them have ever been confirmed. So when I heard you mention that you worked at the house, I thought perhaps you could answer the question that has been burning a hole in my mind all these years."

"And what question is that, Monsieur?" Anna asked apprehensively.

"_Is_ there a legal heir to the Trouville estate hidden away in that house, as gossip suggests?" he posed, looking her squarely in the eye in hopes of discerning an answer.

Anna felt trapped. While she did not feel this man had any nefarious motives, she had sworn to Suzette when she took that job that she was not the busybody type or prone to senseless chatter. Still, if it could possibly help Erik in any way, she could not keep silent. Anna would have to choose her words carefully, for fear anything she disclosed might come back on her at a later date.

"I am not at liberty to respond with a yes…or a no, Monsieur," she began slowly, hoping that he would catch on to her roundabout way of answering. "But let me ask you this…_if_ there were an heir, say about seven and a half years of age, what would be his legal recourse?"

"Well…" Collier knowingly answered, his eyes narrowing as he began to see just what she might be hinting at. "_If_ such a child did exist, he would stand to inherit everything his father left for him…when he reached legal age of course. Until then, the money would be held in trust by the person his father had appointed as the executor."

"And who might that person be, Monsieur Collier?" Anna persisted.

"Certainly not Suzette!" he replied with a snort. "My law firm has been looking after Henri's financial interests and he appointed me as the chief signer on the account. We have created quite a portfolio and invested in different stocks and bonds, causing his fortune to grow in value each year. If there _were _such an heir, he will be a rich man one day."

"And if no such child existed?" Anna asked.

"Then the entire amount would be donated to several foundations and charities stipulated in Henri's will." The man then leaned in a bit closer to Anna, causing her to pull back ever so slightly at the invasion of her personal space. "I have held off doing so in the hopes that my instincts were correct, that Henri had suspected that he would soon have an heir and it was not just wishful thinking on his part that had him smiling again. Though I am still unable to understand why Suzette will not speak to me or confirm the existence of such a child. It makes no sense!"

"Well, Monsieur," Anna once more attempted to be as vague and noncommittal as possible in her next statement. "Hypothetically speaking, what if this child was…different?"

"Different? In what way?" he prodded.

"What if he were…deformed?" she quickly spit out, afraid if she hesitated she might lose her courage. "In all other ways healthy and bright, near genius in fact, but unable to interact with regular society due to an abnormal face - as well as a mother who is ashamed of him! Would this have any bearing on the case or his potential inheritance?"

"Absolutely not!" Jacques Collier assured her, appearing almost offended at her question. "Any heir of Henri's would be regarded as a viable recipient no matter their appearance!" He then cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "However, that is all contingent on there truly _being_ such a child, which you have in no way confirmed or denied, of course," he said with a smile and a wink, letting Anna know that he would not hold her to anything she had just theoretically admitted to. "Yet I thank you for giving me the motivation to continue managing Henri's assets myself and not handing them over to the aforementioned charities."

"May I inquire about Monsieur Trouville," Anna asked, suddenly wishing to know more about Erik's mysterious father. "What sort of man was he? Did he love Suzette and would he have been a good father?"

"I had known Henri for many years, both before and after his taking a wife, and I have to say that he was undoubtedly the most brilliant and generous man I had ever had the pleasure to be acquainted with," Collier told her proudly. "Everyone that knew him liked him very much, except perhaps a few rival businessmen, for you see his genius put them all to shame. He was also a very talented musician and it was at that very store we just left that I first met him. I only dabble myself, but Henri could play, write and compose like no one I had ever seen. Through the years we formed a close friendship as he taught me how to improve on the cello, while I marveled at his mastery over every instrument he touched. Yet when he met his future wife and fell in love with her, he changed…_Suzette_ changed him. It was obvious to everyone but him that she was only after his money, that a spoiled sixteen year old like her was incapable of returning the love he showered upon her. Henri might have been a genius when it came to money and music, but in matters of the heart he was like a little boy, easily deceived and unwilling to hear anyone speak out against her. He had high hopes that she would soon bless him with many children, and during the first three years of their marriage it appeared in his eyes she could do no wrong. Henri spoke of little else, of how he wished to be a father and be able to pass on his knowledge, his love of music and architecture as well as his fortune to a child. He truly would have excelled in that role. Yet it appeared that the woman he chose had other ideas about the institution of motherhood and by the fourth year of their union, he began to lament to me Suzette's apparent reluctance to give him the offspring he desired. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I began to wonder if, unbeknownst to Henri, Suzette might have been taking something to prevent the conception of a child."

Anna saw the hurt in Jacques' eyes as he spoke about his friend, saddened by the unfortunate turn of events he was now revealing to her.

"Did he ever realize his mistake in choosing such a wife?" Anna persisted.

"Near the end…yes," the lawyer sadly confirmed. "I will never forget the night he came to my home, falling down drunk and in tears. He had caught Suzette in the arms of another man, some traveling merchant I believe, and it had nearly destroyed him. It was days before he dared return home, fearing in his present state of mind he would have done the vile wench serious harm for her act of betrayal. Yet eventually he did calm down, managed to come to terms with her infidelity and set out to make things right. However, it was only days later that he asked me to remove her from his will.

"He left her with nothing upon his death? No income to sustain her at all?" Anna was a bit confused by this. If that were true, where did the money for her salary come from, or that which Suzette so readily spent on trips and bottles of wine?

"As angry and hurt as he was, Henri was not a heartless man. Despite her betrayal, he still made provisions for her welfare. He left her the deed to the house he had built for her and a generous stipend that could have easily lasted her the rest of her life, if she had chosen to spend it wisely…which she did not. Besides, Suzette came from a wealthy family who had money to burn, so it was not as if she would have been left on the streets should anything ever happen to him…which unfortunately it did. From what he related, Henri had told her he would amend the will and possibly reinstate her, but only upon the birth of their first child. Yet a year went by and there was still no sign of that happening, plunging Henri into deep melancholy. It was only a short time before his death that he seemed to brighten, hinting that something in his life had changed, offering him a measure of joy. At first I had thought Henri might have found himself a new love, yet he was far too noble a man to act in such a manner. So I was left to conclude that perhaps Suzette was at last with child, but Henri was killed before I could find out for sure. Everyone, including me, expected Suzette to immediately remarry, searching out another wealthy man to take Henri's place. Yet like I said, instead she became a recluse, hiding away in that house with nary a peep out of her in over half a dozen years. However…given the _hypothetical_ situation you just posed, I can now understand why she might have felt the need."

"So where does that leave you, Monsieur Collier?" Anna questioned. "What will you do now?"

"I will continue to look after my friend's interests and wait for the day when an heir might surface and claim his rightful inheritance," he admitted. "Someone who would be coming of age in about ten years, who might have a facial deformity and…?" once again he left his statement open, fishing for more details.

"And jet black hair, a tall but thin frame and piercing amber eyes," Anna filled in, a smile spreading across her face as she ticked off Erik's extraordinary features. She found it odd when her last description caused the lawyer to chuckle slightly.

"Forgive me for my rudeness," he apologized quickly. "But you see, other than the abnormal face, you have just described Henri to a tee, right down to the rare shade of gold in his eyes. I expect with those distinct features, I will have no trouble recognizing such a man should he come calling one day."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Anna grinned. "Assuming such a person truly existed."

"Of course," Collier nodded solemnly before giving her a knowing smile.

The two then said their goodbyes, the kind lawyer promising to never disclose what was said that day as Anna hurried back to the Trouville home, already fearing she had been gone far longer than was required. Her heart was a bit lighter knowing that even though Erik's mother fell short of the mark for a good parent, his father had not. Even beyond the grave, Henri Trouville had made arrangements to care for his child, showing his love for the boy the only way he could. It was truly a shame the man had not lived long enough to discover what an amazing son he had fathered.

Unsure when, or even if, she should share her newfound information with Erik, she kept it to herself for now, fearing that if it were ever to make its way back to Suzette, there would be hell to pay. If she told Erik anything about his father it would only bring up more questions that Anna was not sure his young mind could currently process. His fortune would be there waiting for him when he reached the age of maturity; until then, he was still at the mercy of Suzette and her volatile whims. So filing it securely away, Anna withheld from everyone the information she had learned that day.

.

.

Erik was beside himself with excitement when she gave him the staff paper, and after that he would spend every moment he could in the cellar, writing, rewriting and playing his compositions. Anna would sometimes become lonely while cleaning and venture down, sitting there in amazement as she listened to the beauty he would create. One day it occurred to her that while he could bring such life and fire to his music, he had never written lyrics for any of his songs.

"Erik," she began, thankfully during a moment when he was not so engrossed in his work and he actually heard her. "Why is it that you do not add words? Your music is beautiful, but wouldn't it be even better if someone could sing along?"

He looked up from the piano, his fingers hovering over the keys in a moment of deep contemplation.

"I _do_ like it when you sing words in your songs," he admitted at last. "But what if I write the wrong thing? What if the words cannot convey the thoughts that are in my mind when I play? They would have to be perfect."

"Music does not have to be perfect," she argued, watching him pull back in horror at her scandalous claim. She laughed to herself as she approached, placing her hands on his bony little shoulders. "As long as it comes from the heart, then, and only then, it will be perfection itself. Do you understand?"

"Music comes from the heart?" he repeated, a cross between a question and a statement.

"Everything worth doing, or having, in life must come from your heart, Erik. For your heart is where love begins and grows. If you love something, or someone, you must not be afraid to let it out. Learn to take a risk now and then." She leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of his head. "But even if you do, always remember two things: be good and never forget you are a gentleman. One day, when you are older, you will understand," Anna promised, heading back upstairs and leaving him to his work.

* * *

**Well now you know more about Erik's father, Henri Trouville. What a sweet man...oh if only he had lived *sniff, sniff***

**And you met Monsieur Jacques (Jack) Collier - what do you think of him?**

**Erik has a piano! There is NO STOPPING HIM NOW!**

**How are the feels feeling now?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Greetings!**

**For those of you who have been wondering...No, this is not going to be a story only about Little Erik. He will grow and he will meet Christine. I can't tell you exactly when that will happen, but before a full 'baker's dozen' chapters are posted, Christine will be in the picture. OK?**

**Guest Reviews:**

**TheRebbs98:** Awww, cry as much as you need to. Erik appreciates the sentiment.

**Mystery:** I had such a fun time working on his 'back story' explaining why he does certain things in the future...and yes, there will be more about why he does, or doesn't do, certain things.

**syrianlight:** Yes you were right! And Henri was such a great potential father...he would have loved Erik for sure. You are just overly suspicious...Jacque is a very nice guy.

**Guessst:** Oh good question...could Erik end up being just as blinded by a pretty face as his dad was? Maybe...but really, do you think I would make Christine another Suzette? Ick! And yep, Erik is NOT afraid to use that piano!

**Jobizzle:** I hope they had you sign for that massive package of feels. ha ha. Can't wait to hear if your theories panned out or if the crashed and burned.

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**Chapter 7**

**Rose Biscuits**

* * *

Time passed, summer became fall and the leaves began to turn their vibrant shades, making the city a rainbow-hued wonderland of autumn colors. Suzette still left the house every time the opportunity presented itself and Anna and Erik enjoyed her absence. Each day, as Madame Trouville pulled the door closed behind her and headed down the walk, Anna would immediately climb the stairs and unlock Erik's door. The boy would be standing on the other side, eagerly awaiting his release and subsequent access to the rest of the house. She had tried to get him to go outside a time or two, but he claimed the sun hurt his eyes and she could tell that he feared the possibility of anyone seeing him, so she didn't press. Besides, Erik much preferred to entomb himself in the cellar, playing the piano and filling up more and more sheets with wondrous music. Much to Anna's disappointment he had still not written any lyrics for his compositions, or at least none that he shared with her. Yet, she had no complaints, since the numerous scores he did play often moved her to tears, his brilliance and mastery of his art clearly shining through. It truly was a delight to behold and Anna began to wonder if it was fair that such genius was shared with her alone. The world should hear Erik's music and he deserved to be recognized for his talent. She just had no idea how to go about it.

Suzette was just putting on her cloak, ready to head out on another trip to Paris when she turned to Anna with a look of apprehension. The housekeeper had noticed the woman had been acting a bit nervous the past day or so, leaving her wondering if something might be wrong.

"I want you to pay extra attention to cleaning the parlor today, Anna," she informed her. "I will also require some refreshments to serve tomorrow as well. I am…having a _guest_ stop by and I will wish to have something to serve. Perhaps some rose biscuits and tea would be nice." She then looked over at Anna, giving her a doubtful stare. "You _do_ know how to bake something as simple as biscuits, I assume," she asked with a bit of a sneer and challenging tone.

Anna had not the slightest idea how to bake such a confection, yet once again Suzette had managed to provoke her sense of pride and instead of confessing the truth, she held her head high and nodded in the affirmative. This seemed to surprise Madame Trouville; however, she only gave a hum of skepticism before she shut the door and was gone.

Anna stood there in the foyer and berated herself for allowing her vanity to get the better of her. Why had she lied and told her employer that she could do something, when in fact, there was very little chance of her ever creating such treats…or at least edible ones. Why didn't it occur to Suzette to pick some up from a bakery while she was out, instead of choosing to humiliate Anna by asking her to provide them? Had the woman not yet figured out her ineptitude where food preparation was concerned? Oh, this was going to be a disaster!

She was disturbed from her thoughts by the sound of Erik bounding down the stairs in a hurry, before skidding to a stop beside her. He looked towards the door at which she was staring and then up at her curiously.

"Is something wrong, Anna?" he asked, not liking it when his nanny seemed out of sorts.

"I did a terrible thing, Erik," she whispered, still stunned by the predicament she had just put herself in. "I lied to your mother and when she comes home tonight and discovers this, she is bound to be very angry with me…perhaps even dismiss me!"

This news seemed to upset Erik greatly and he grabbed hold of her hand and tugged lightly, willing her to look down at him instead of the front door that continued to hold her dazed attention.

"What did you tell her?" he asked. Erik understood exactly what it meant to tell a lie, since Anna had explained the concept to him in great detail, warning him that it was wrong and wicked to be untruthful. Anna now wished that she had taken her own advice.

"I told her that I could bake rose biscuits," Anna admitted, her eyes watering up in shame over her falsehood. "She claims to be having company tomorrow and wishes to serve refreshments to her guest and I just now lied to her face by telling her I could bake them. Oh, Erik, why did I do such a thing? You know the last few times I attempted to bake anything the kitchen filled with smoke and the food came out completely black!"

Erik nodded, remembering her cries of fright and dismay as they scampered around the house, opening every door and window to allow the smoke to exit, after her failed attempt to bake a cake. The treat resembled a charred brick by the time they were able to get it out of the oven and even Erik could not bring himself to taste it - no matter how much he wished to make Anna feel better. Something had to be done so there would not be a repeat performance of _that_ disaster.

"Then we will just have to figure it out," came his childlike determination. "You always say to stop, calm down and think about things logically. Then, with a clear head you will find the answer," he reminded her. "If we approach the rose biscuits the same way…I am sure we can figure them out."

Anna stared down at Erik in amazement. How in the world had a child of eight become so smart? She thought of herself at that age and remembered how shy, timid and unsure she had been, nothing like this bright, enthusiastic and methodical boy that stood before her. And she loved him all the more for it. Suddenly something occurred to her – she had not gone upstairs to unlock his door after Suzette left.

"Erik," she began, cocking her head a bit in confusion. "How did you get out of your room?" When a wicked little smile crossed his lips and he rocked back and forth on his heels in an almost proud gesture, she shook her head and chuckled quietly. "Never mind, I don't think I want to know."

* * *

The next twenty minutes were spent on searching the house for a book on baking. Anna had looked through the kitchen a time or two before, but yielding no success. Erik suggested they check the library, hoping that on the shelves and shelves of books they might find something that would be helpful. The boy had already collected a tall stack of reading material for himself by the time he gave a cry of success, pulling a very thick manual on cooking from one of the top shelves. It appeared to be brand new, never having been touched and when they looked inside and read the inscription, they understood why. It had apparently been purchased as a wedding gift by Suzette's mother, for the inside read: "To my perfect little girl, I hope this will aid you in delighting your new husband with many tasty treats, all my love, Mum."

"Well, we can assume that your father never received any rose biscuits made by your mother," Anna laughed as she flipped through the book, searching for that specific recipe.

"At least not any that didn't resemble charcoal," Erik nodded, giving her a wide grin when she narrowed her eyes at his jest.

"Hmmmm, yes," Anna muttered as she reached down and tickled him in the sides. "Well, how about we see if we can do any better, you cheeky little boy!" she accused, following the laughing child out of the library.

With all the ingredients spread out over the table and Erik sitting cross-legged at the very end with the book in hand, they began the endeavor of baking the infamous rose biscuits.

"What do we do first?" Anna asked, tying her apron snugly around her waist.

"The recipe says that you should first thoroughly mix the yolks of four eggs, one cup of sugar and one teaspoon of vanilla in a bowl using a whisk," Erik told her, reading the instructions.

"All right," Anna sighed, staring at the eggs before her, wishing they would magically separate themselves and hop into the bowl. Yet when this did not happen, she grabbed hold of the egg and gave it a whack. It took some trial and error, not to mention extra time to fish out pieces of stray shell, but soon Anna was whisking away, giving Erik a turn or two when her arm got tired.

"Anna, how come you never learned to cook?" Erik asked after returning the bowl for her to finish the mixing. "Did your mother never teach you or give you a book like this when you got married?"

She had been dreading this conversation for some time now, but had expected that Erik's inquisitive little mind would one day get around to asking about her past. Thus with a heavy sigh, she began her long and sordid tale.

"My mother died when I was ten, leaving me to the care of my father," she explained. "While he did his best, he was not suited to raise a child alone, so he sent me away to school so I could study music."

"There is a place you can go to learn about music?" Erik asked, his eyes growing wide with excitement.

"There are many places for such education," she nodded. "I studied at a very prestigious institute in Stockholm, living there at the dormitories and taking lessons until I was sixteen." She looked down at the creamy mixture in the bowl, tipping it slightly so that Erik could see. "Do you think this is enough mixing?" When he gave a nod of agreement she asked what to do next.

"It says you are to add the egg whites next, along with half a teaspoon of beet juice and mix until it forms stiff peaks," Erik read. Once the items were in the bowl and she was again mixing, he prodded her to continue her story.

"We were never taught things like cooking or baking at the music school; just voice lessons, music theory, stage presentation, vocalization skills and piano accompaniment," Anna told him. "The year I turned sixteen, and would have graduated from the school, was when my father took ill and died of pneumonia, leaving me alone. All I had was my voice to fall back on, so I applied for any job I could find that would allow me to make a living off my music. The first few years were lean ones; often I would be reduced to literally singing for my supper. But then I found employment at the Salle Le Peletier, a magnificent opera house in Paris. I lived and sang there for almost two years, enjoying the spotlight and working my way up to lead soprano." Anna stopped there, getting a faraway look in her eyes, an air of reminiscence surrounding her. Noticing her distraction, Erik waited patiently for her to return to her tale. "I enjoyed singing and had no intentions of giving it up…at least until I met _him_."

"Your…husband?" Erik prodded, wishing to know more.

"Yes, Walter," Anna nodded, looking down at the bowl in her hands in hopes that the boy did not see her sad expression. But Erik missed nothing. "Walter de Chagny was his full name, and his title at the time was Vicomte. His parents were patrons of the Salle Le Peletier and they would often drag him along in hopes that he might one day show an interest in supporting the arts as well…being the socially acceptable thing for the rich to do, you see. He had heard me sing and pursued me, eventually requesting to court me after a time. Being the young idealistic fool I was, I agreed. Oh, we had a whirlwind romance; candlelit dinners, fancy parties, walks along the Seine, tokens of his affection and dozens of roses - everything you could imagine to make a girl fall head over heels in love. When he asked for my hand, I of course said yes, not realizing that by doing so I would be forced to give up my life on the stage."

"Why?" Erik asked, completely aghast at the idea.

"It would not have been proper for the wife of nobility to work, much less be singing and acting in public. It is simply not done. The rich could support the arts…they could not, however, participate in them." Yet even as she explained this, the words sounded hollow and she was sure Erik recognized her bitterness over being forced to give up the vocation she loved. "Thus began my life as a Vicomtesse, going from one form of acting to another. Walter's family was not pleased that he had married a commoner, much less a renowned diva of the stage. Yet, since his older brother stood to inherit the family title and fortune, Walter was free to do whatever scandalous thing he pleased, or so I often overheard them say." Anna had to stop there and clear her throat, not enjoying the memories of those days of scorn and indifference his relatives had given her. They were not good times she wished to relive, even if only in her mind. Attempting to distract herself she looked up at Erik expectantly. "Now what does the book say to do?"

Erik had been so enthralled in her story it appeared he had forgotten that they were even making something. He quickly looked back at the recipe and read the next instructions.

"Sift in one and a half cups of flour, one third cup of cornstarch and one teaspoon of baking soda into the bowl, folding in gently."

"Alright," Anna agreed, still seeming very unsure of herself, but with Erik there to give her moral support, she did as she was told.

"Then what happened?" Erik asked, not allowing her to be diverted from her story for long.

"We had a happy marriage…at first," she confessed, not meeting Erik's inquisitive eyes. "I think in the beginning he truly did love me, maybe even as much as I loved him. But as the years ticked by and I was unable to…to have children, his heart changed towards me. I pretended I did not see it, but I could tell things were different and that he blamed me for it. I had often wished I could return to the stage, but even that dream died when an epidemic of scarlet fever ran rampant through Paris and I became deathly ill. While many died from the sickness, I survived, but in its wake it had taken my ability to sing, damaging my vocal cords in the process."

"Is that why you cannot sing more than one or two songs at a time?" Erik asked, reaching out and placing his hand on her arm in a comforting gesture. It was obvious that he did not fully comprehend what she was saying about the illness and her subsequent condition, but he recognized that she had loved singing and that she was grieved to have lost the ability. He was truly becoming comfortable with expressing his feelings, and not just those of rage and anger.

"Yes, the fever weakened them and the doctors said there was no way to strengthen them enough for me to sing as I used to." She looked up at him and smiled proudly. "I used to be very good, nothing at all like I am now. I think you would have been very impressed with me in my younger days."

"I think you sing pretty now," Erik argued, loving how sweet and soft she sounded whenever he begged her for a song.

"Thank you, Erik," she smiled, returning to her stirring. "It makes me very happy to hear that. However, I was not allowed to grieve over the loss of my voice for long, because right after that, Walter's father, the Count, and his older brother, Edgar, were tragically killed when their ship was lost at sea. Suddenly my husband became the focus of attention as he was expected to become the new Count de Chagny, a role he had never expected to fill and one that he was woefully unprepared for. However, his biggest stumbling block to gaining his title was the fact that he did not have an heir. Several of his cousins began to vie for the position, claiming that they were more suited, having respectable wives and children to carry on their legacy. Walter was given an ultimatum; produce an heir by the time he reached thirty-five, or forfeit the title. That gave us exactly two years and put even more of a burden on our already fragile marriage. Walter had me examined by numerous doctors and specialists in an attempt to…well, to see if something could be done. In the end, nothing seemed to help."

Once more Anna paused, cringing as she thought back on the demeaning and never ending visits by the many doctors. She had been subjected to humiliating examinations and horrifying treatments, all in the hopes that Walters's seed would take root and grow within her. He would visit her bed almost every night, performing the act that was meant to conceive a child, but there was no longer any love or tenderness associated with it. It seemed merely a duty to him, one that must be performed, and each time Anna shut her eyes and bore the assault on her body as was demanded. When he was finished, Walter would rise and leave without a word, returning to his own room, while Anna curled up in a ball and cried herself to sleep. Her dream of marriage and family had turned into a nightmare, living in a large mansion with a man who was as cold and distant as a stranger. His family had become even worse, no longer bothering to speak out against her in private, choosing instead to berate and belittle her directly to her face, as well as in public. The day that Walter joined in was the day Anna's last bit of hope had died.

Walter's subsequent proclamation to his family that Anna was indeed barren came as no surprise to her, neither did his announcement that he had petitioned the church for an annulment. He claimed that she had knowingly deceived him about her ability to fulfill the marriage contract, citing that as his reason to the priest. With a little bit of money tossed his way, the cleric happily granted his request and the next thing she knew, Anna was out on the street with little more than the clothes on her back and absolutely no way to support herself. Within the month, she had heard that Walter had remarried, to a widowed Duchess who already had two young boys. After the wedding Walter adopted them as his own, instantly giving him an heir and a spare, which firmly secured his title and fortune.

"Since I could not give him children, Walter had no further use for me and sent me away. So I left Paris, moving from town to town in hopes that no one would recognize me as the deposed Countess, praying that I could find work doing something. I told everyone I was a widow, claiming my husband died so that I would not have to explain the humiliating story of how I failed as a wife."

"You did not fail!" Erik interjected, obviously angered at the injustice of her story. "I may not fully understand how a husband should behave, but no one should be allowed to treat you badly or make you cry, Anna. No one! You deserve better!"

"Thank you for saying so, my little champion," Anna smiled reaching out and brushing her fingers across his determined chin. "But just like the prospect of children, any hope for love and an amiable husband has long since passed me by. I have lost my youthful bloom, assuring that there will be no line of suitors vying for my hand like there was when I was the Diva of Paris. Thus, I have resigned myself to being the housekeeper for a crotchety woman and a nursemaid to a precocious little genius named Erik Trouville." As she said this, she reached out with one hand and tickled his boney ribs, causing him to squirm away with laughter. "And on days like this, I don't think that is such a bad life at all."

"I'm sorry that your husband treated you badly, but am very glad you are here, Anna," Erik admitted, becoming very serious. "I…I don't know what I would have done if you had not come. Things are so much better with you here. I never want you to go away."

"I don't want to leave either," she assured him. Yet before they both fell into bouts of melancholy, she took a deep breath and tried to gather her composure. "However, if we do not finish these rose biscuits and do a good job, I might not have a choice."

"She would never dismiss you," Erik said confidently. "For if you left, she would have to take care of me again all by herself and I don't think that is something she wants to do." He looked down at the book again and added, almost under his breath, "I know I certainly don't want her to."

Anna knew his words were true. That was probably why the woman had put up with her inabilities for as long as she had, knowing that if nothing else, it freed her from having to be reminded that she had a deformed son locked in the attic. After all, Suzette could get good food anywhere, and she was likely eating much better meals during her day trips to Paris than she ever got at home.

"Well, even if that is true, I am still determined to prove to her that I _can_ bake a batch of rose biscuits!" Anna huffed, her pride still a bit wounded over how Suzette had questioned her abilities…even if she had good reason.

"Then we need to get the batter into that patisserie bag and squeeze out long strips about the size of your finger, at least four inches apart," Erik agreed as he read on. "Then you sprinkle the confectioners' sugar on top and bake for ten minutes."

"Is that all?" she asked, eyeing the pastry bag as if it were a dangerous weapon.

"No…then you take them out, sprinkle more sugar on them and bake until you can poke in a knife and it comes out clean. Finally it says to cut them into rectangles and allow them to cool on a rack." He shut the book with a note of finality and looked up at her expectantly. "Well? You can't squirt them out unless you put the batter in the bag."

"I am beginning to second guess my decision about appointing you my sous-chef," she laughed. "You are becoming quite the little tyrant."

"Yet with my help, you could one day become a world famous cook!" Erik laughed, thoroughly enjoying his time with Anna in the kitchen.

"I just might take you up on that, if only to see that I can put some meat on your bones," Anna teased, giving him a wink and a smile and making him laugh all the harder.

As the biscuits baked, Erik and Anna cleaned the kitchen, keeping a meticulous eye on the oven and the time so they would not burn. When their pastries came out they smelled divine, causing Erik to actually lick his lips at the idea of tasting them. After cutting them and allowing them to cool, they each sampled their wares.

"You did it!" Erik cheered after taking his first bite.

"No…_we_ did it," Anna corrected him, giving him a big hug. "Tyrant or not, you are now my official baking partner. And who knows, maybe I am ready to tackle a few more recipes…with your help of course."

"Deal!" he agreed, holding out his hand to shake on it.

* * *

Suzette had obviously been impressed with the biscuits, and though she had not been offered any praise for her hard work, Anna felt the swell of pride nonetheless. The Madame had not yet mentioned who her guest was to be and by dinner time, when Anna was sharing her evening meal with Erik, her curiosity was reaching critical level.

"Do you think it is one of her friends from school she goes to visit? Or perhaps some friend from around here?" Anna mused as she munched on the semi-burnt piece of bread, deciding that this would be the next project she would enlist Erik's help with.

"No, she has no friends who live nearby," Erik mused. "And even if she did, she would not allow them in her house for fear they might see me. It is most likely that man again."

"A man?" Now Anna was _very_ intrigued. "What man?"

"About twice a year a man comes. He never stays long, only for tea," Erik answered, looking uncomfortable with the idea. "He is of ordinary build and dresses very well, but he never looks happy or pleased about anything. He talks to her for a while and then she comes upstairs and brings me down. The man will ask me a few questions and then he…he…" There Erik stopped, looking away in shame.

"What does he do?" Anna prompted, reaching out to place her hand over his. She held her breath, fearing what he would say next…had the man struck Erik? Or was he some kind of doctor who might wish to experiment on the unique boy? Such things would not be unheard of when dealing with an oddity like Erik's face and physique. It sent shivers up her spine to imagine that Suzette might even consider allowing such a thing. She prayed that her fears were wrong.

"He…he tells her take off my mask…and then he…he just stares at me," Erik revealed at last. "I know he thinks I am ugly from the way he cringes and looks away, but every time he demands that it be removed. I don't understand, but when I ask who he is and why he wants to see my face, _she_ yells at me and sends me back to my room, threatening to beat me if I dare to ask such things again."

"That is terrible, Erik…and very, very strange," Anna concluded, wondering exactly what was going on and why Suzette appeared to be hiding the identity and purpose of this mysterious man. "And you think that is who her guest will be tomorrow?"

"It is about time for him to come again," Erik said with a shrug of indifference, but Anna could tell he feared the visit greatly and she wished she could find a way to ease his concern. Perhaps if she could discover who this man was, as well as his intentions, that would put a few of his fears to rest…or it could open up a whole new set of them, just like Pandora's Box.

Anna was determined to find out which.

* * *

**OH DEAR...now who is coming for tea? And what does he want with Little Erik? **

**Man...don't you just hate cliffhangers?**

**So what did you think of Anna's history? And can you now figure out her relationship to Raoul? Hmmmm?**

**Looks like Erik knows exactly how to get out of his room...all...by...himself!**

**What did you think of their baking party? Can't you just imagine Erik with a chef's hat and one of those white pastry coats? So cute.**

**And now...did everyone notice the rose biscuits in the picture I am using as my logo? I MADE a batch of these myself just for that reason. **

**My first batch tasted like a cross between a biscotti and a vanilla wafer. The second batch I cooked for less time and they came out more chewy, the first ones I think I cooked too long and they came out crunchy and not as 'rosy'. The batter reminded me of one of those circus marshmallow peanuts! In the story I substituted beet juice for the food coloring, since they did not have such things back then.**

**And for those of you who would like to make them yourself...here is the recipe:**

Biscuit Rose de Reims

4 large eggs (separate the yolks from the whites)

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 cup sugar

1 1/2 cups flour

1/3 cupcornstarch

1 tsp baking soda

drops of red food coloring

powdered (confectioner's) sugar for dusting the cookies

pastry bag with 1/4-inch smooth tip

Preheat the oven to 300°F (180°C). Mix the yolks, sugar and vanilla in a bowl using a hand blender with a whisk attachment, on increasing speeds over a period of 5-6 minutes. Beat in 2 of the egg whites for another 2 minutes. Beat in the remaining 2 egg whites and the food coloring for an additional 2 minutes until the mixture begins to form stiff peaks.

Sift the flour, cornstarch and baking soda into the bowl, folding in gently with a spatula. You want a final result that is smooth and uniform in color. Scrape it into the pastry bag.

Cover a baking sheet with wax paper and grease it with either butter or non-stick spray. Squeeze out strips of the mixture that are 1/4-inch wide (about as wide as your finger) and about 3 inches long. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and bake for 15 - 20 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. (Keep a close eye on them, you don't want the biscuits to start browning though, or else they won't be pink!) Take the biscuits out, sprinkle them with more powdered sugar and place them back in the oven for another 10 - 15 minutes. (I took my second batch out early because they were beginning to change colors and I wanted mine 'rosy' for the photo!)

When you take them out, quickly cut off the rounded edges of the biscuits so that you have even rectangles. Do this before they cool, or else they become rather difficult to cut. If they cool before you finish, you can place them back in the oven for a few minutes to soften.

Serve with a semi-sweet Champagne and enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

**Ok, Children...you have waited long enough to discover the secret of the mysterious stranger.**

**You might not like what you learn though...**

**Guest Reviews:**

**Mystery:** Yep, you guessed Raoul's identity perfectly! And nope, both your guesses were wrong...but you will find that out if you keep reading, ha ha. As for what I will...or will not do...well, that remains to be seen. hee hee.

**syrianlight:** Anyone who makes Erik feel bad has to be up to no good! A big hug and a healthy dose of little Erik love will be just what Anna needs to feel better. Thanks! Glad you like my Rose Biscuits!

**invader:** Glad you liked it, my dear.

**TheRebbs98:** Well, we KNOW there is a secret cubby that Erik uses to hide his stuff from Suzette!

**Guessst:** Well, Raoul and Philippe are Walter's step sons...no real relation at all to Anna now that he kicked her to the curb! Oh, yes...Raoul never stood a chance...Erik hates him forever! ha ha.

**Guest:** Ha ha, the little Chagny boys...so cute. Did Erik ever need a _reason_ not to like Raoul? I mean besieds the whole Christine thing and the fact that he is young, rich and handsome? I will let you decide if you want to like or dislike Raoul when the time comes. I personally think he is innately good...just misguided. One should NEVER mess with Erik's woman! And the story is a full 50 chapters long and a little over 250,000 words.

** PhantomChristine:** There is no way I have room to specifically comment on ALL your wonderful reviews, but I thank you VERY much for each and every one of them!

**Jobizzle:** HEY, don't you go besmirching dear sweet Jacque! He is the salt of the earth! But I don't blame you for being suspicious...I do tend to lead you down the garden path from time to time, muwwaahhhaahaaaa. Oh, and AS IF anyone could swindle Erik...he is tooooo smart for that.

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**Chapter 8**

**Sins of a Mother**

* * *

The following morning Suzette instructed Anna to lay out the rose biscuits, the fancy tea service and spruce up the sitting room one last time. Erik had seemed overly subdued when she brought him his breakfast, refusing to eat a bite, despite Anna's gentle coaxing. He would not look at her and his hands were balled into fists as she puttered around his room, making his bed and straightening his few possessions, as she had become accustomed to doing. Yet he would not speak. She could understand his trepidation; not knowing what horrors this guest might bring was weighing on his young mind and nothing she said appeared to ease his anxiety.

Anna dreamed up several jobs that needed tending to in the kitchen, trying to make sure she would be on hand when the mystery man arrived, and thus allowing her to ascertain the purpose for his visit. Yet when noontime approached, Suzette apparently had other ideas and handed her a list of items to be purchased at the market. They were all things that could have easily waited for another day, so it was obvious to Anna that she was being sent away for a reason. Who was this man that she did not want anyone to know about? Why did he come twice a year, only for tea and a look at Erik? Anna had to know!

So after she was practically forced out of the house to attend her errands, Anna instead doubled back, sneaking into the kitchen and hiding in the pantry until she heard the ominous knock at the front door. Muffled words were exchanged as the two headed towards the parlor, allowing Anna to silently make her way down the hall and position herself behind one of the large chairs in the foyer, directly across from the open arch that led to the parlor. If she poked her head out just so, she could easily observe what was going on, without being seen herself. And so she listened.

"You look well," the man told Suzette, sitting down in one of the high backed tufted chairs. He had graying hair and a very chiseled and stern looking face, just as Erik had described. He was also impeccably dressed, from his three piece suit to the silk cravat and golden pocket watch, hanging from its chain at his waist.

"It is true, I have been feeling better as of late," she nodded, taking a seat on the sofa opposite of him.

"The house looks more put together, at least from the inside," he continued, his voice polite, yet still a bit gruff.

"Since my health has improved I have been doing a lot more cleaning," she lied, causing Anna's face to pinch indignantly over her fraudulent claim.

"And how is…_he,_ these days?" he inquired, stumbling a bit over how to refer to the child.

"He is well," was all she said, quickly changing the subject. "Would you care for some tea, I prepared it just as you like?"

"Yes, thank you," he nodded, holding out the cup as she poured. He then waited as Suzette doled out the appropriate number of sugar cubes and spot of milk.

"How are things at home and with your business? All well, I hope," she continued, obviously trying to make small talk, but it appeared that the man's patience for such frivolity had just run out.

"Why waste our time with such useless drivel?" he snapped, setting the cup and saucer down on the table quite forcefully, causing the china to rattle. "If you wish to receive your allowance for the next six months, just go fetch the boy. I am a busy man and I do not have all day."

Suzette bowed her head and nodded, rising from her seat and leaving the room.

_So_, Anna thought to herself as she continued to study the man,_ could this be Madame Trouville's father?_ He was certainly old enough and she had asked how things were at home, indicating that she may have once lived there herself. Yet, if this was her father, why did he visit so rarely, and what was this mention of an allowance?

Suzette returned before Anna could formulate any conclusion, and her mind was instantly distracted by Erik and the almost vice-like grip his mother had around the back of his neck, steering him in the direction she wished him to go.

"Here he is," she stated, no emotion betrayed in her voice.

The man rose from his seat and walked forward to tower over Erik. For a few moments he simply stared, not saying anything before nodding towards Suzette, conveying his silent instructions. She apparently knew what he wanted and reaching out she grabbed hold of the mask and tore it from Erik's face, his little head jerking to the side from the force of it being ripped away. And there he was, once again placed on display before this unknown man, subjected to his scrutinizing stare. The man cringed and averted his eyes, yet remained silent, taking several deep breaths before any further words were spoken.

"How old are you now, boy?" he questioned sternly. When Erik did not answer he spoke more forcefully. "I asked you a question... _answer me!"_

"Seven and a half," Erik responded quietly, not daring to look up.

"What is thirty-six times four?" came his next demand.

This time the subject of his inquiry seemed to puzzle Erik and he tipped his head up, eyeing the man skeptically. "Why? Don't _you_ know?" Erik questioned, a hint of arrogance in his tone.

"How dare you!" Suzette gasped, reaching out and delivering a harsh slap to the back of Erik's head, causing him to lurch forward, barely catching himself on the arm of the sofa. "You do not speak to your betters that way! Now answer the question or there will be hell to pay later!"

"One hundred and forty-four," Erik at last obliged.

"Well, at least he is not an idiot, as well as hideous," the man nodded, apparently satisfied by Erik's responses. "I have seen enough, he is dismissed."

Suzette thrust the mask back into Erik's hands and roughly turned him around to face the stairs.

"Now get back to your room and do not let me hear another peep from you for the rest of the day, understand?" and with a less than gentle shove, she sent him on his way, his little feet tripping slightly as he staggered forth.

Anna wanted to leap from her hiding place and deliver her own punishing blows to both Suzette and her supposed father, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits as she silently seethed. Apparently the rotten apple did not fall far from the wicked tree!

Once they heard the sound of Erik's door closing, the man turned around and reached for his overcoat, intending to take his leave.

"Are you satisfied, Father?" Suzette asked quickly, stepping in front of him as if she were trying to prevent him from leaving so soon. "As you can see, he is alive and well, I have done just as you've said."

"Yes, it is obviously the same child, you have not allowed him to die or attempted to pass off some other boy as…_yours_," her now confirmed father replied. "I must say, he has put on a few pounds and looks more like a human being with his hair trimmed that way."

"I have done well then?" she asked hopefully.

"You have done only what any decent mother should do!" he bellowed, taking a threatening step closer, causing Suzette to move away in fear. "You wish for me to praise you for that?"

"But you said when I learned my lesson… if I grew up and took responsibility for my actions, I…I could come home!" she pleaded, reaching out her hand in an imploring gesture towards him. "Please, Father. I miss you."

"Ha!" he scoffed, slapping her hand away in disgust. "You only miss my money and a house full of servants at your beck and call. That is all you ever cared about, just like your worthless mother. Why couldn't she have given me a son before she died, instead of a useless daughter?"

"Please, Father, I am so lonely and I hate living here all by myself," Suzette continued. "I have no friends, no one to talk with and I swear I will go insane if I have to take care of that little creature another day! Please help me!"

"Help you?" he repeated with a scoff of derision. "That is all I have done since the day your ridiculous mother put that silver spoon in your greedy little mouth! I fed and clothed you, paid for your education - fat lot of good _that_ did me - and even found a respectable man willing to take you off my hands simply for your good looks and the opportunity to bed you. A marriage I do not recall you having any issue with once you saw the size of his bank account! You had it all, Suzette, and what did you do? You attempted to kill your unborn child! What you did was a sin and an abomination! Yet, perhaps this world would be better off if I had encouraged your mother to do the same!"

From where Anna was hiding she could not help but cover her mouth in shock. What madness was this? How could a father be so hateful to his own child…and yet, what had he just accused Suzette of doing? Attempting to murder Erik before he was even born? How could this be?

By now Suzette was enraged, shaking uncontrollably as she labored to speak out in her defense.

"What did you expect from me? I was just a frightened child, barely out of my teens! My husband had just died, and I was left alone with a child on that way that I never wanted! When that blasted lawyer of his claimed that not a single franc of that beast's money had gone to me, I didn't know what else to do! I had endured years of boredom and disgust as his perfect little wife and he left me with nothing! NOTHING! The only thing I could think was to get rid of the wretched brat and forget those past years, and my horrible marriage, ever happened!" she cried, her balled up fists shaking with fury.

"Henri Trouville was a very wise man then!" her father shouted. "Not only a genius who created a thriving business but a far better husband than the likes of you deserved. Why he ever deemed you worthy of his affection and an offer of marriage, I will never know, but I was only too happy to grant his eager request for your hand. You should have been grateful for all the things he gave you! A beautiful home, a good reputation, fancy clothes and a child!"

"A child I never wanted!" Suzette shuddered in revulsion. "_He_ was the one who wanted an heir! _He_ was the one who talked of nothing else and dreamed of the day he could teach his son all he knew. He never asked _me_ what I wanted! What did I know about raising a child? I could not imagine the idea of that little parasite growing inside of me, let alone it coming out and me having to care for it all alone. So yes, after he died, I tried to get rid of it! Any woman in my place would have!"

"Yet you even failed at that, now didn't you!" he accused. "Taking that elixir the gypsy woman gave you did nothing but deform the boy into a hideous monster. A worthless and unwanted creation that _you_ should be held responsible for!"

"But why?" she beseeched. "I don't want him…_you_ don't want him and there is no one left on the Trouville side of the family who could possibly wish to keep him. Who would know, or even care, if he simply…_disappeared_?"

"I would know!" her father bellowed, stepping closer and grabbing her roughly by the wrists, shaking her fiercely. "I was forced to raise _you_ for sixteen long years before I was able to be rid of you…thus you will be required to endure the same hell as I. You will raise that beast until he turns sixteen."

"Eight more years?" Suzette gasped in horror. "I…I can't live like this for eight more years…I will go mad!" she began to mumble incoherently and pace around the room, her fingers threading through her hair in desperation. After a few moments she stopped and looked at her father pleadingly. "Is that what you want…an insane daughter? One who would shame you and require expensive hospitalization and treatment? Would you rather see your money tossed down the sewer over such a needless expense…or end this nightmare and set me free?"

Anna held her breath, afraid that Suzette's mention of her father's fortune had at last convinced the greedy old man to relent.

"Very well," he said with an exasperated sigh. "When the boy turns ten…_then_ you may consider yourself properly punished."

"And I can come home?" she asked hopefully.

"Then you are allowed to make a new life for yourself," he corrected. "One as far away from me as you can manage. I have been willing to fund your pitiful existence thus far, in order to save face, but after the boy turns ten, you are on your own. Send him to a lunatic asylum or sell him to a freak show, I care not which, but until that time he will live here with you and remain your responsibility…_your penance_." He turned away from her with an exasperated huff and headed for the door. "I would suggest you do all you can to retain your looks and figure, Suzette, for if you are unable to catch yourself a wealthy man, you will need them at the brothels where you will undoubtedly end up." He grabbed his top hat from the table as he left, looking back only once. "See you in six months, _my dear_." With the slam of the door he was gone.

The moment he exited the house Suzette threw herself onto the sofa, screaming and sobbing into a pillow as her fists repeatedly struck against the cushions.

Anna was completely overcome. The things she had just seen and heard made her want to vomit. Rising from her crouched position she walked silently through the kitchen and slipped undetected out the back door. Anna hurried towards town, desperate to fill the shopping list that Suzette had given her so she would not suspect that she had been spying.

As she walked along the road, her mind replayed every word that had been said between father and daughter. Suzette had only loved Henri Trouville's money, even though, from everything she had heard, Erik's father had been more than a decent husband to her. Yet despite that, she had dared to desecrate her marriage vows by engaging in immoral conduct with another man? Still, none of those sins held a candle to the fact that vile woman had attempted to abort her own child, almost killing her own son before he had a chance to draw breath. And while the poison she had obtained might not have succeeded in ending Erik's little life, it had undoubtedly altered it forever by destroying his face and possibly affecting his whole body. To think that he was not originally meant to be this way was a painful blow indeed.

Anna wondered what Erik might have looked like, had his mother not taken the drug. She had often found it strange that there were no pictures or paintings of Erik's father in the house. Yet now, knowing what she did, Anna could see why Suzette chose to get rid of them. Monsieur Collier had said Erik resembled his paternal figure in many ways. If he had also been blessed with a handsome face, would his life have been different? Surely he would have gone to school, learning so many things and astounding his teachers …and probably frustrating them just as equally. He would have studied at the Sorbonne or perhaps attended the French Academy at the Villa Medici in Rome – after receiving a full scholarship for winning the Prix de Rome, of course. Nothing would have been out of Erik's reach, no scholastic achievement unobtainable. He could have been king of all he surveyed, able to fly with the gods. Yet, because of the selfish act of one spoiled little brat, he was bound to this earth by the cruel fetters of his deformity. She prayed that Erik never learned the truth, that he never came to realize what his mother had done to him. Just the thought of it broke _her_ heart, but to a tender soul like Erik…she knew it had the potential to destroy him. It was not fair…not fair in the least.

Anna did not know what to do. If she said anything, Suzette would surely dismiss her, for this was not some burnt dinner or a failure to clean something to her standards. This had been an outright betrayal and invasion of her privacy. Anna had been purposefully sent to town so she would not discover Suzette's dirty little secrets. Yet now that she knew, Anna wondered how she could possibly continue in her employment. _No!_ She had to, for if she left, Erik would be the one to suffer and there was no way Anna could live with that. She would stay, protect Erik and give him all the love he deserved.

The man had said he would be back in six months and that Erik's safety would be guaranteed through those visits until his tenth year; after that, Anna shuddered to think what might befall him. That could simply not happen! So many thoughts were now running through her mind, but foremost was that she had to save Erik. _Yet how?_ She had no means to support herself, much less a child – especially one with such unique and exceptional needs. If she took him and ran, she could be thrown into prison for abduction, causing Erik's existence to be revealed and exposing him to ridicule. Anna would have to bide her time and pray that Suzette's continued dependence on her father's money kept Erik safe, while she searched for a way to rescue him.

* * *

By the time Anna returned from the market, Suzette had managed to compose herself, once more taking on that bitter and stoic role she knew so well. Yet gone from Anna was any hint of compassion for Suzette. Now knowing what she did, Anna could no longer muster the effort to search for any goodness in that wicked woman. She would continue to work there for Erik's sake, but that was all!

The second she had a spare moment, Anna hurried to Erik's room to check on him, praying that he had not somehow overheard what had been said in the parlor that afternoon. He was in a melancholy mood, to be sure, but certainly not the catatonic state she would associate with a boy who had just learned his mother had tried to kill him. Thus, concluding that the secret was safe for now, Anna did her best to cheer him up, telling him that as soon as his mother left the following day, they would spend time playing games and creating, be it music or some new kind of baked good. This lifted his spirits somewhat, but she knew that it would take a few days to recover from the humiliating experience. She just needed to give him time.

Anna continued to perform her duties, to cook and clean, but she no longer put forth any extra effort to please Suzette. This freed up some extra time, all of which she happily lavished on Erik. She stopped bothering to go up and unlock his door after his mother left the house, for as soon as the door shut behind Suzette, Anna could hear the faint click, followed by Erik's eager feet as they raced down the stairs. She never did ask him how he was able to manipulate the lock and free himself, because there seemed to be no end to what that boy could master if he put his mind to it.

Their many games of hide and seek were a prime example of that, for it was an activity that Erik excelled at. More times than not, Anna was left completely stumped as to where that boy had hidden himself. Erik had the uncanny ability to disappear like a ghost and he found great pleasure in demonstrating that talent. Frequently, after twenty minutes of searching had gone by, Erik would become bored and begin to make noises in order to give his position away. Anna would be searching in one corner of a room but would suddenly hear a light tapping coming from the other side. Following the sound she would soon find him tucked away in some impossibly small or completely overlooked nook, a huge smile plastered across his face at the length of time it had taken her to locate him. Erik took great pride in his crafty little skills.

However, the talent he possessed that exceeded all others, was composing. Anna would spend hours down in the cellar listening to him play, completely mesmerized by the haunting melodies he could coax out of that old pianoforte. Yet the day he announced, almost with embarrassment, that he had written words to one, was the day she truly understood the magnitude of his abilities. He sat her down on a box a few feet away and after a bit of stalling, fixing his pages and clearing his throat, he began to play. The tune instantly captivated her, pulling her into his world of beauty. But nothing had prepared her for the moment he opened his mouth and began to sing. Anna almost fell over in shock. His voice was magnificent! No… more than that, it was positively unearthly. She thought back to the first time she heard him speak, the first time he laughed, and found she could not believe how she had underestimated his great potential. Anna had known his singing voice would be exceptional…but even now she could barely comprehend the magnitude of range his young voice possessed. As he grew, as his skills matured…he would be peerless.

She forced her attention away from his voice and instead listened to his words as he sang of loneliness, of abandonment and pain. If Anna had not already been weeping from the beauty of his voice, his lyrics would have brought her to her knees.

When Erik finished, he sat there for a moment, his eyes closed as he came back from wherever his music had taken him. At last he turned and looked at her, his young eyes hopeful as he sought acceptance and approval. Yet when he saw Anna in tears, he began to panic, erroneously assuming that all tears meant sadness and pain.

"Erik is sorry!" he shouted , standing up from the bench so quickly it tipped over, hitting the floor with a loud crash. "He did not mean to make Anna cry!"

"No, Erik!" she quickly corrected him. "I am not sad…these are not tears of sorrow!" Which was not entirely true, for his words had conveyed deep sadness, invoking a measure of grief in her as well, but he did not need to know that. "I loved it. Every word, every note…I absolutely loved it."

"You…you did?" he questioned, trying to reconcile her tears with something positive, something good.

"I was overwhelmed by how beautiful it was…how beautiful _you_ are," she insisted. "Your song, Erik…it moved me. It touched my heart and made me weep with joy. You have an amazing gift, one I am in complete awe of."

"Then you liked it?" His voice had risen to one of hopeful excitement, obviously relieved that his beloved nanny enjoyed his musical gift, and had not been offended by it. "I have more," he quickly told her, resetting the bench as he shuffled around some pages, eager to play her another one.

"I would be honored to hear anything you wish to share with me," she assured him, wiping away her tears as she graced him with a loving smile. Suzette was a cruel, heartless beast of a mother and she had treated Erik abominably before and after his birth. Yet at that very moment, Anna felt true pity for her…pity for the whole world in fact. For here in this little cellar, she alone beheld a greatness the likes of which no one had ever known.

Soon Erik became comfortable sharing his music and ethereal voice with Anna, entrancing her with many more of his personal compositions. As he continued to progress, if it was even possible to improve on perfection, Erik became obsessed with learning more and more about his chosen craft. Many days Anna was peppered with questions, especially about her time attending music school. He was fascinated with the subject, as well as other aspects of the world that interacted with all things musical. Anna did all she could to quench his thirst for knowledge, but she feared that even a tidal wave of information would never be enough for him.

"I have been reading more about music," he informed her one day as they worked in the kitchen. Erik was assisting her in learning to bake tarts, once more perched cross-legged on the table top as he read out the directions. "The book said it takes multiple instruments to create an entire orchestra. Is that true?"

"Oh, yes," she agreed, peeking in the oven as she checked to see if their creations were ready to come out. "The pianoforte is just one of many. There is the flute, the oboe, clarinet, and trumpet just to name a few. Then you have the stringed instruments, like the violin, cello or mandolin. You could then add instruments of percussion, like a big kettledrum, cymbals, the triangle and many more. When they are all played together in harmony, the sound is quite amazing. People gather in concert halls or other venues and pay exorbitant amounts of money to hear them perform."

"You can make a living by playing music?" This appeared to be a new thought to him, one that pleased him greatly.

"Of course, just like I did for a while with my singing," she nodded. "There are many jobs for those musically inclined. People write songs and sell their creations to be played by others, or perform their own compositions themselves. They join orchestras or traveling groups, some play in restaurants or even fancy hotels to entertain the guests. Why, I have even seen men with amazing talent playing the pipe organ at church."

"A pipe organ?" Erik repeated, his amber eyes lighting up. "They had a picture of one in the book. It looked huge. Much bigger than the pianoforte in the cellar. Do they have one at every church?"

"I doubt it. They are rather costly and require a lot of room. It would have to be a large and lucrative church indeed to house an organ," Anna decided, peeking in once more on the tarts. This time they appeared to be done, so she covered her hand with a cloth and pulled the little fruit filled pies out with a smile of satisfaction. She was so pleased by her apparent success with the pastries, that Anna missed the wild, contemplative look that sprang to Erik's eyes; a look that would have normally put her on high alert.

_Erik was planning something._

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**Oh, Erik...this does NOT sound good at all!**

**So...who do we hate more...Suzette or her horrible father? I am calling it a tie.**

**Now we find out that Erik was never meant to be this way. So sad. Is Anna right to keep this information from him?**

**Did you enjoy the little game if hide and seek? Who knew Erik would be so good at that game? ha ha**

**Erik can SING too! And boy did he blow Anna way with those golden pipes of his.**

**Now he wants to learn about pipe organs! Danger, Danger Will Robinson!**

**Leave me a note and tell me what you thought...and see you on Monday!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you all once again for your continued reviews - Little Erik blows a kiss to each one of you for them!**

**Guest Reviews:**

**Syrianlight:** *sends band-aid for your tender heart* Erik still can hold the world in the palm of his hands, but now you have to worry if he might not just squish it for all it has done to him. You will soon find out what Erik has been secretly planning. Hold on to that tender heart of yours!

**PhantomChristine:** I agree, Suzette and her dad are both HORRIBLE. Erik so deserves better! Read on and you will find out what Erik plans to do...

**Jobizzle:** Who know where it all started, but it has to end with Erik! Break the vicious cycle!

**TheRebbs98:** Well wait no longer...go and SEE what he is planning!

**Dani:** Oh yes, we can sure see where he got all his good ideas and thoughts...from Anna. And where he got a lot of his bad ones...from his wicked mother!

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**Warning: Shore up your tender hearts, dear readers. Here come the feels!**

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**Chapter 9**

**A True Mother's Promise**

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The first hint of winter was in the air and soon Anna suspected that snow would begin to fall, covering their small town in a blanket of white. She had taken to wearing her cloak every time she went out, keeping it by the door for trips to the market or even going outside to bring in more wood. When the weather changed, Anna had found some old rugs that were collecting dust in the cellar and nailed them up over the broken windows in Erik's room. They successfully kept out the wind and cold, but unfortunately blocked most of the light as well. There was now only one window, out of the three that still had glass in it, which allowed a measure of light through the boards. Yet she saw no other way around it, since Suzette refused to spend the money to fix the broken panes.

It had been several weeks since they had their conversation about the orchestra and any mention of the pipe organ had been long forgotten by Anna…but not so with Erik. He had been secretly studying everything he could about the fascinating instrument, delving into dictionaries and encyclopedias as well as the one or two books about music Anna had purchased and ferreted into his greedy little hands.

It was going on five months since Anna had come to live at the house, when everything came tumbling down. It was a Sunday, meaning Suzette had not gone out and was lounging in the parlor, reading her woman's magazine and sipping on a glass of sherry. Anna had been up to see Erik, taking him his breakfast, but for some inexplicable reason he seemed distracted and almost afraid, refusing to eat anything. Assuming it was due to the fact that his mother was home - something that always set him a bit on edge, due to the fact that he could not play the piano for the next two days - she didn't think much of it and continued with her daily chores.

Anna was about to begin fixing lunch when she heard the strangest sound…a knock at the door. Who would be calling here? Glancing over at Suzette questioningly, Anna gestured towards the door, silently asking if she would like her to answer it. Even Suzette seemed puzzled by the would-be visitor, but instructed the housekeeper to see who it was. When she opened the door, allowing the cold wind to blow inside, she saw it was a very stout, barrel-chested priest, one she had seen a few times in town as she shopped. Had he come to offer Mass to Suzette in her home, since she never went to church?

"May I help you?" she asked the bundled up priest.

"I must see Madame Trouville…immediately!" he instructed, pushing past her as he made his way inside.

Anna did not know what else to do but close the door behind him, shutting out the cold. She then pointed towards the parlor, indicating where he could find the woman he sought. Huffing like a winded mule, the man hurried further inside until he was standing face to face with a perplexed Suzette.

"You promised me that you would keep that boy hidden!" he accused, unwinding the scarf from around his neck and face as he spoke to her sternly. "I warned you what might happen if people in the village ever saw him. Sure, there have been rumors, but nothing has ever been confirmed…until last night!"

"What are you talking about?" Suzette questioned, the irritation growing in her voice as the older man continued to fume before her. "I never allow him out of his room, let alone out of the house! You must be seeing things, you crazy old man."

"Crazy? You continue to harbor a veritable demon under your roof and yet you call _me_ crazy?" he bellowed. "I swore I would keep your secret, considering it within the bounds of a confession, when you chose to reveal his existence to me. But I warned you that he was a peculiar creature, far too clever and cunning for one of his tender years…it is unnatural."

"So you said," Suzette nodded with sigh of exasperation. "But what does all of this have to do with why you are here?"

"The boy…he was spotted!" the priest shouted. "He has been sneaking into the rectory for the past week to play the organ…and sing! Many of my parishioners have heard him and they came to me last night, claiming that the church was being visited by an angel. Yet, I say not an angel of God, but a demon from hell!"

Anna, who had been hovering in the doorway at the first mention of Erik, gasped in shock and covered her mouth. _Oh, Erik, what have you done?_

"There is no way it could have been him," Suzette continued to deny. "I have the boy under lock and key, he is not allowed out of the attic and the only other person who has access to his room is …Anna." As she said the housekeeper's name, Suzette turned slowly until she was staring directly at her, glaring through narrowed eyes. "He couldn't have been at the church…unless…." It took all of five seconds for Suzette's temper to reach critical mass and she launched herself towards Anna. Pushing the startled woman against a nearby wall, she pinned her there with claw like hands that dug into her shoulders. "What have you done?!" she screamed. "Did you let him out of his room? Did you allow him to wander outside this house, risking exposure of both him _and me?"_

"N-n-no!" Anna answered, speaking only a half truth. "He has never been outside…I…I don't know how he might have…"

"LIAR!" Suzette accused, digging her nails even deeper into Anna's skin, making her cringe in pain. "It had to be you! You possess the only other key and you are always whining over his treatment. Saying he needs more food, more clothes and more freedom. Did you get tired of asking and took it upon yourself to set the little hellion free? Answer me or I swear I will take a riding crop to your backside for your insolence!"

"NO!" came a very loud but terrified voice from the direction of the doorway by the stairs. "It wasn't her! I snuck out on my own... Anna didn't know. No one knew!"

"So you admit your sin!" the priest cut in storming over to where Erik stood and grabbing his arm he hauled him into the middle of the room. "For it is blasphemy for one such as you to enter the church in the first place!" He then turned his attention back to Suzette, never letting go of Erik as he spoke. "He was caught last night in the organ room, playing and…and _singing_! He had a dozen very devout and pious women of the choir dragging me from my bed at close to midnight, all swearing that an angel had come to the earth to grace our church with its glory. Yet when I entered the organ room and saw this…_this abomination_, I knew it was none other than the work of the devil!" He shook Erik roughly as he spoke, making the boy whimper from his hold. "Thankfully, he ran from the church so quickly that no one got a good look at him. I was able to pacify the group of zealous sisters well enough, but I knew the truth…I knew exactly what kind of fiend was hidden behind that mask!"

Suzette had been stunned into silence, her face turning a deep shade of red at what the priest was telling her. It was one thing to be forced to take care of the boy, it was quite another to have to protect him, as well as herself, from an angry mob should his existence be discovered. The priest might have succeeded in concealing his identity this time…but what about the next? Oh no, as far as Suzette was concerned, there would be no next time!

"I thank you for the information, Father, and I hope I can count on your continued silence," she began, releasing Anna and stepping towards the priest and the boy. "I shall see to it that it never happens again…I assure you." All the while she was speaking, Suzette continued to advance until she was directly in front of the two, never once taking her eyes off of Erik's masked face.

The priest looked from the downcast boy to his mother and back, then with a huff of derision he released Erik's arm and pointed his finger at Suzette once more.

"See that it doesn't! I refuse to have this atrocity inside my church again…it is a holy place and I will not have it desecrated with the likes of him!" Pulling himself up to his full height, which was not much, he stormed out of the room, slamming the front door as he left.

"What were you doing at the church?!" Suzette screamed at Erik, as soon as the priest was gone. "How did you get out of your room….did _she_ let you out?!"

"N-n-no…I let myself out…I learned how to open the lock years ago," he confessed, never looking up into his mother's enraged eyes. "Anna didn't know I was sneaking out, I swear. I just wanted to see what an organ sounded like…I wanted to play and sing like other people do…I just wanted to play."

"How did you learn what an organ was in the first place?" she barked, her hands balling into fists at Erik's confession. "Who told you about such things?"

"I did!" Anna spoke up, unable to keep silent any longer. She could not allow Erik to take the full blame for this, for she had just as much a hand in it as he. "Your son is amazing, Madame. He plays the pianoforte like a virtuoso and his voice is like nothing I have ever heard…it is just as the ladies at the church said…he has the voice of an angel."

"NO! It is the voice of the devil himself…the same voice his wicked father possessed!" Suzette brought her hands to her ears and pressed hard, as if trying to drown out the sounds from years past. "I never wanted children…I never wished to grow fat and suffer the agony of childbirth, and God knows I never wanted _you_!" she all but screamed in Erik's face, making him flinch and look away. "I did all I could to avoid such a horror, begging for more time, claiming I was too young to be a mother and secretly taking herbs to prevent conception for as long as I could. For a time I even tried denying him his husbandly due; refusing to allow him anywhere near me. And that pathetic husband of mine allowed it, not once forcing me to honor my marriage vows! But oh, God…his voice… I couldn't resist…_his voice._ That wicked siren's call that would leave me helpless, unable to fight his passionate pleas. And all the while he was completely oblivious to the effect it had over me, how I would have given him anything if he would only sing to me with that _voice_!"

Anna could not believe what she was hearing, her face growing red at the intimately personal things spewing out of Suzette's mouth. She was grateful that Erik seemed oblivious to much of what she was saying, understating his mother's scolding tone, but the words and their meaning were blessedly lost on his innocent young mind. Yet she had no time to contemplate this further, as Suzette continued on.

"Each time he begged me, using that seductive voice of his, I couldn't stop myself and I would give my body over to his touch. It was _his_ fault…_he_ tricked me into wanting him…and all for the unearthly pleasure of hearing him sing!" She looked directly at Erik with all the hatred in the world. "And you are becoming just like _him_….with that unholy voice of yours and that sinister little mind! _Just like him!"_ And before Anna could take a step forward in his defense, the sound of a vicious slap being delivered to Erik's face rang through the room. The blow seemed to stun the boy more than anything, obviously not anticipating its delivery. Yet as Suzette took a threatening step forward, her hand raised in preparation to strike again, Erik gave a yelp of fright and dove for cover behind one of the overstuffed chairs.

"Don't you touch him, you vile snake!" Anna yelled. She had been unable to prevent the first blow, but she certainly was not going to allow a second. She grabbed hold of Suzette's shoulder and spun her around, pulling back her arm as she struck her across the face with a balled-up fist. This time it was Madame Trouville's turn to go flying backwards, tripping over a nearby table and sending a very old, and possibly expensive, vase crashing to the floor.

It was more than obvious that no one had expected the meek maid to lash out in such a way, not even Anna herself. Sure she had yelled at her employer before, berating her for Erik's mistreatment, but never in her life had she struck another human being. Not even her husband, Walter, had felt the sting of her hand, though he had deserved that and so much more. Yet when Anna had seen Suzette take her anger out on poor little Erik…she had snapped.

Suzette's hand had instantly gone to her face, covering over the now stinging flesh of her lip and jaw as she stared dumbfounded at her normally docile housekeeper. However, when she pulled it back and saw the sticky red liquid staining her fingers and watched the small white tooth covered in blood drop into her hand, her expression turned to one of pure hatred.

"You witch!" she spat, scrambling to her feet as she picked up the silver tea pot on the service tray and used it as a makeshift mirror to examine the damage Anna had caused to her face. "Look what you have done! Look at me!"

Anna's bravado and need for vengeance melted away into utter panic. What _had _she done!

"I…I…" Anna stuttered, not knowing what to say. Protecting Erik had been second nature, like a mother lion protecting her cub. Unfortunately, she was not the true mother of this cub…and she could easily be sent from his side for what she had just done.

"Look at me!" Suzette continued to shout, spitting blood onto the floor as she pulled back her lips in order to examine the gaping hole where her front tooth had once been. "How can I go anywhere looking like this? How can I ever show my face in public again…or to anyone?!" In a fit of rage she threw the teapot across the room, knocking several knick-knacks off the mantel as it struck against the fireplace. "GET OUT!" Suzette screamed. "Get out of my house you horrible creature! Get out and don't you ever come back!"

"Please, no! I am so very sorry, Madame. Please forgive me," Anna gasped, praying that she had not just ruined everything for her and Erik with her impulsive actions.

"Forgive you?" Suzette shouted in disbelief. "I will have you clapped in irons for what you did to me! I intend on pressing criminal charges for your assault! They will lock you up and you will never see the light of day again, do you hear me?"

"No, please! It was not Anna's fault," Erik begged, scrambling from where he lay on the floor and stepping in front of Anna protectively. "I was bad…not her! Please do not send Anna to jail."

"I should send you both to prison for what you have done!" Suzette continued. "I have been lied to, betrayed and attacked! Why should I even think about showing mercy?"

"For all you have done to this innocent boy over the years, I believe you owe it to him!" Anna spat out. She knew she was in way over her head, just a lowly servant with no family, no support and nowhere to go should she be tossed out. Yet in her heart she knew she had to do what was right for Erik. He was the one who needed her protection now. "I know exactly why you keep Erik locked away! I heard everything that was said between you and your father when he came that day! I know everything, Suzette, and I will not allow you to treat him this way any longer!"

If at all possible, Madame Trouville's eyes grew even wider with shock and anger over Anna's accusation.

"You spying little whore!" she accused. "I knew from the moment you set foot in this house that you would be trouble! How dare you say such things to me, you worthless street rat!"

"I will go then! I will leave this house and you will never have to see me again…but please, let Erik come with me!" Anna pleaded suddenly, grabbing hold of the boy by the shoulders and pulling him to her possessively. "I will take him far away, never to bother you again, I swear!"

"You…want to take…the boy?" Suzette repeated in a shocked tone, as if the idea was beyond all comprehension. And while Anna could see that split second of relief in her eyes over the prospect, a vile look of hate and greed quickly took its place. "NO! He is mine! You can't have him!"

"Please see reason," Anna beseeched, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks at the idea that she and Erik might soon be parted. "I will do anything you ask. If it is about the money, I will work for free, I will find a way to compensate you for what you will lose… anything you ask, just please, let him leave with me!"

However, Suzette was beyond both reason and compassion. She was out for blood. Turning, she pointed a finger at the broken vase on the floor, the one she had knocked over when Anna had hit her.

"That was a priceless heirloom! I will not only have you brought up on charges for assault, but for destroying my property as well. There is no way you would ever be able to pay off its value, no matter how long you slave away at the work-house. I will enjoy watching you rot in prison for the rest of your miserable life!"

"NO!" Erik sobbed, falling to his knees as he clutched at Suzette's dress. "Don't send Anna to prison. Erik will stay in his room. He will be silent as a mouse and you will never have to bother with him again. Please, don't hurt Anna…don't make her go to that horrible place!"

Once more Suzette's mind was spinning with ideas of how she could turn this to her advantage. She had them both over a barrel and she intended to play it to the hilt.

"Tell you what I will do," she began, yanking on her skirt in order to free it from Erik's offensive grasp. "To show you that I am not completely heartless, I will not call the gendarmes…_right away."_ She then looked over at Anna and pointed her bony finger at her threateningly. "I will hold off notifying them of your crimes until tomorrow morning, but _only_ if you leave here tonight! And I don't just mean my house; I mean this town…in fact all of France!"

Anna covered her mouth with her hand, fear and despair gripping her heart at Suzette's ultimatum. _Leave Erik?_ If she were only throwing her out of the house that would be one thing, for she could at least remain nearby and watch over him from afar. But to force her to leave the country? How could she do such a thing? Before Anna could even speak, Suzette continued, directing her attention back to Erik as he kneeled on the floor at her feet, looking very much like a whipped puppy.

"And you!" she spat. "If you wish to keep your beloved nanny free from prison, you will do as I say, when I say and exactly as I tell you…do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied in a quiet voice, bowing his head in defeat.

"Erik, no!" Anna begged, falling to her knees beside him and pulling him into her embrace. "You don't have to do this."

"I can't let her lock you up because of me, Anna!" the boy wailed, burying his masked face into her chest as he began to sob. "I know what it is like and I couldn't stand it if it happened to you. Please, Anna…just…just go."

"That is quite enough of this rubbish," Suzette snarled, reaching down to take hold of Erik but Anna turned away, blocking him from her grasp.

"For the love of God, just give us a moment to say goodbye!" she cried, holding the precious boy even tighter as she bent her head to his ear and whispered her final words to him. "I love you, Erik. I will always love you! No matter how far or long we are apart, you will never be out of my thoughts or my heart. I will come back for you, I swear it. I will not allow you to remain in this hell a moment more than you must. I will return for you. _I promise!"_

"I…I love you too, Anna," Erik whispered back between gasps of breath as he fought to speak around his tears. Yet before he could say more, he was pulled from her arms by a vengeful Suzette.

"You have said your farewells, now, honor your word and obey me! Get up to your room…NOW!" she screamed, pushing him towards the doorway.

Anna remained on her knees, sobbing as if her heart would break as she watched the frightened little boy back his way from the room. His tear-filled eyes never left her face until the last moment, when he turned and ran up the stairs and out of her sight.

"ERIK!" Anna screamed, stumbling to her feet as she attempted to follow him, unwilling to let him go. Yet before she could make chase, Suzette grabbed her by the arm, holding her back.

"You have all of ten seconds to get out of my house before I change my mind and haul you down to the gendarmes personally!" she threatened as she pulled her towards the door.

"Please, let me take him!" Anna continued to beg, knowing it was useless, but the idea of leaving him behind was unthinkable. "You don't want him…let me have him!"

"He may be a burden and a horror, but for the next few years he will serve his purpose," Suzette countered. "He is mine and I will see him locked up in an asylum before I'll ever agree to let _you_ have him, especially after what you have done. For the past eight years I have had no peace, no happiness…why the hell should he?" They were at the door by then and Suzette grabbed Anna's cloak off the hook and shoved it into her hands. "Now, GET OUT!"

"What about my things?" Anna protested, her hands shaking with both fear and grief. "You can't throw me out onto the street with nothing. I have no money…nowhere to go!"

This seemed to give Suzette pause and with an exasperated huff she turned and grabbed the pocket book that sat on the hall table. Rifling through it for a moment, she threw a small wad of bills at her in disgust.

"There is enough for a train ticket out of France," she told her crossly. "That is more than you deserve and with that I wash my hands of any obligation I ever had towards you. Now leave my sight! I will be visiting the authorities first thing in the morning, so if you value your freedom, I would suggest you make use of this reprieve and leave town tonight! And if I ever catch you skulking around this house again, I promise I will make that blasted boy pay for your disobedience. Instead of taking the riding crop to _you_, he will be the one to feel it on _his_ backside! I am only required to keep him alive, per my father's conditions, he never stipulated in what condition it had to be." She then reached out and grabbed hold of the door handle, flinging it open with a loud bang. "NOW GO!"

Anna stood there, clutching her cloak in one hand and the pitiful amount of money in the other, unable to speak or even move because of the horror of Suzette's words. She had no doubt that Madame Trouville would carry them out, Anna simply found it difficult to believe that someone could ever be that cruel. Yet her threats had the desired effect, knowing that Anna would never risk endangering Erik by getting caught trying to sneak into the house to rescue him. The consequences were too great, the pain he would suffer too real. So with no other choice, Anna turned and exited the house.

When she heard the slam behind her, the force of it causing her to jump slightly, she spun around and stared up at the home she once feared entering. Had it been only five short months ago that she had stood on this very spot and wondered if she should even dare knock? Now, here she was, once more out on the street with nothing but the clothes on her back and a few francs in her hand. Yet none of that held a candle to the hole in her chest at the loss of Erik. He had wiggled his way into her heart, taking up residence there as if he had been born to her. He might not have been her flesh and blood, but no one could ever have loved a child more than she did him. Taking several steps back she searched the uppermost windows for any sign of the boy, one last look, anything to hold on to as her heart shattered into a million pieces.

There, from the corner of one boarded up window she could see his little hand…waving slowly as she was forced to flee. Anna released a heart wrenching cry as she made her way to the gate, never taking her eyes off her final glimpse of him.

"I love you, Erik!" she yelled, praying that the biting wind would carry her words up to his ears. "I will come back for you! I promise!" Then with one final sob, she pushed open the rusty gate and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Away from that house, away from Suzette …and away from Erik Trouville.

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The cold and angry footsteps that mounted the stairs came closer and closer to the little attic room, stopping just outside the door. Yet instead of entering right away, the sounds of steel against metal was heard as Suzette used a hammer to pound a number of nails into the wooden door and the adjacent wall, installing a new kind of lock. When the hammering stopped at last, the door creaked slowly open, announcing her ominous presence. Yet Erik did not seem to notice or care, in fact, he didn't even bother to turn around. He instead continued to stare through the small cracks of his boarded up window.

"She is gone. No one is left to protect you and unless you wish for me to see that her worthless hide is thrown into prison, I suggest you keep your word and give me no further grief!" Suzette spat at him. "I installed a new lock on your door, so don't even bother trying to get out. And if I have to make my way up these stairs again for any other reason than to bring you the food required to keep you alive, any beating I ever gave you in the past will feel like child's play in comparison. Do you understand me, you little freak?"

Erik did not move, he did not speak, he only stared out the little crack at the final spot he had seen Anna.

"Answer me, damn you!" she screeched.

"Erik hates you," was all he said in reply.

"Well, isn't that convenient," came her bitter retort, her voice low and deadly, "because the feeling is mutual." Then with a slam of the door and a loud clank, as the lock was set in place, she stormed downstairs.

Erik was alone once more.

* * *

***FP33 runs and hides* Don't hate me! Hate Suzette and the situation...not the poor writer...Please!**

**So...seems like Erik and his wish to hear a pipe organ got him in a bit of hot water.**

**Way to go Anna! - now Suzette is a TOOTHLESS old hag! Might as well look the part, right?**

**Poor Anna, not only driven away from Erik but out of town as well. Where will she go?**

**What did you think of how Suzette described Henri's sex appeal...that voice of his that would turn her knees to jelly? Wonder if Erik will hone THAT skill?**

**Tune in Wednesday to see what happens next!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all for understanding that it is ALL Suzette's fault...NOT MINE.**

**In all honesty, I just write down what Erik tells me happend. I am his 'Ghost Writer' for his autobiography, you see. ha ha.**

**Guest Reviews:**

**syrianlight:** NO! Do not feel bad for Suzette...it is not allowed. ha ha. Anna would have loved to steal him away too. Yes, Erik DID promise to be good...but even HE has his limits. I hope you can trust me...for I am a sucker for happy endings!

**PhantomChristine:** *FP33 ducks and covers* Yes i COULD have let Anna take Erik...but...but that is not how the story goes. Sorry. And you are forgiven for yelling if I am forgiven for writing something that made you yell. ha ha. Hope the next chapters make up for it.

**Guessst:** I am glad that line struck home with you...I meant for it to. Sorry about your heart, but thanks for the compliment.

**TheRebbs98:** I swear...IT WASN'T ME...it was Suzette! Oh no, there will be none of THAT! I will not let her cross that line in the sand. NOPE!

**Guest 1:** Thanks! And I don't have to write more...the story is done. All 50 chapters, just waiting for me to keep posting.

**Guest 2:** Um...well...I can't tell you that my dear, but that is not to say it won't happen! Just read on and see for yourself. ha ha.

.

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**Chapter 10**

**A Promise Kept**

**1858**

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It had been two years. Two long years since Anna had left this house and France behind…yet she had never forgotten. Now, as she opened the rusty gate and stared at the dilapidated mansion, she recalled the last time she had stood on this very spot; the day she had been cruelly driven away from the boy who had stolen her heart.

~XXX~

Anna had run away in tears that day, having no idea where she was headed and her heart feeling as if it had shattered into tiny pieces. She didn't know what to do yet all she wanted was to turn around and find a way to steal Erik away from that horrible woman. _Yet how?_ She had no way of supporting herself, let alone a child, and Suzette had threatened to take her vengeance out on Erik if she ever saw Anna's face again. Still, she had to do something…_anything!_

Then it hit her…Monsieur Collier…perhaps he could help? Though he had no legal authority over Suzette or her treatment of Erik, at least he could offer a sympathetic ear and perhaps some sage advice. So drying her red and swollen eyes, she rushed into town, asking directions from anyone she met, desperate to locate the law firm where Jacque Collier worked. Yet when Anna arrived at the two-story, stone building, she found it locked up tight. She rang the bell, beat on the door and called out, but to no avail. It was a Sunday afternoon and nothing was open, all the shops and businesses closed to the public. Anna's tears had begun once more as she beat frantically against the unyielding wood, feeling desperate and helpless. Her voice must have carried for just then, two uniformed policemen came around the corner, spotting the frantic woman and heading towards her. A paralyzing fear gripped Anna, thinking that perhaps Suzette had not kept her word after all, and had notified the Gendarmes of her assault and destruction of property. Would Madame Trouville truly have been so cruel? It did not take long for Anna to answer that question, and abandoning her attempts to locate Jacque Collier, she fled, leaving the officers calling for her to stop as she raced through the streets and alleyways. When she at last felt she had eluded them, Anna stopped to take a breath, leaning against the stone wall as she prayed for direction.

That was when she heard it…the sound of a train whistle, blowing in the distance. Reaching into the pocket of her apron, Anna pulled out the fistful of bills Suzette had given her. Could she do it? Her heart begged her not to, yet her mind reasoned that she would be of no use to Erik if she were locked up in prison. If she remained free, she might be able to come up with a plan to rescue him from his attic prison…yet behind bars, she would be just as much a captive as he. Every fiber of her being ached at the thought of leaving her darling little boy…for abandoning him in any way went against her very nature. Still, the shrill whistle of the train called to her, promising freedom and the chance to return to save the boy. And so, with feet that felt like they were made of lead, she walked the few blocks to the train station, her eyes once more filling with tears.

There was one last train leaving that day, heading north to Germany. Anna knew no one in that country, but it was her only choice and she realized if she stayed, her next night would be spent behind bars, compliments of Suzette. So purchasing a one way ticket, she climbed aboard and prayed that she would find a way to one day return to France…and to Erik.

As the hours ticked by and the miles between them grew, Anna was forced to admit just how lost and alone she was in the world. No husband, no friends and only a few francs left in her pocket, leaving her with very few options. So with nowhere to turn, the once celebrated diva of Paris decided to return to her home country in the north. Her father had sent her away from their small village in Sweden at a young age, but she did recall once meeting an aunt and assorted cousins who had lived in another town. And as she spent more and more of her precious money to secure passage further north, Anna prayed that they still lived and might offer her refuge.

The trip had been long and arduous, made worse by the aching in her heart over the loss of Erik. What would become of him? Would Suzette treat him even worse than before, or would she leave him blessedly alone, allowing him to exist in relative safety in exchange for the income his sad little life offered her? She prayed nightly that it would be the latter.

Upon her arrival in Sweden, she quickly located the relative she sought, her Aunt Emma. Amid many tears, Anna explained her situation and begged for refuge from the bitter winter that had just set in. Thankfully her aunt was a benevolent soul and allowed her to stay within her home in exchange for her help and assistance. Emma's own children had long since grown and moved away, beginning their own lives and leaving the elderly woman quite alone. And as the winter snow began to fall, keeping the pair housebound for days at a time, they grew close, enjoying each other's company more and more.

Yet each night, Anna would open her window and look to the south, towards France, and pray for Erik's safety. More than once she had thought of trying to send a letter to Monsieur Collier begging him to look in on Erik, yet not only was she unsure if she recalled the address correctly, but what if her missives fell into the wrong hands, thus giving away her location. She would not put it past Suzette to somehow entice the Gendarmes to search her out in Sweden, still claiming that she assaulted her and destroyed her valuables. Writing to Erik was also out of the question, since not only would Suzette never allow him to see such correspondence, she might see them as a challenge to her authority over the boy and punish Erik for her attempt. As it stood, Anna had no idea how she would keep her promise, now completely broke and living off the good graces of others, but she knew if she did not return before those two years were up, Erik would be lost to her forever. She hoped the threat Suzette's father had laid out would protect him until then, but once Erik reached the age of ten…oh, but Anna could not even conceive the horrors that awaited that poor innocent boy. No matter what, Anna was determined to make her way back to France and rescue Erik from such a fate.

When spring at last melted the ice and snow, Anna set out looking for employment, eager to somehow earn some money while still remaining with her aunt to offer assistance. Thanks to the meager cooking skills she had learned, much in part to Erik's fine instruction as he read from the cookbook, she was able to secure a position at a local inn. Anna spent her days baking many sweets and pastries to serve the guests who ate and talked in the common room downstairs, often enjoying a song or two provided by local musicians. A few of them were quite good, some barely passable while one or two were tossed out on their backside by the innkeeper for offending their customers' discerning ears.

One musician, however, caught Anna's attention: a handsome violinist with chestnut brown hair and piercing blue eyes, who was perhaps a few years older than herself. He came to play three times a week, enthralling the patrons with his magnificent talent and casting longing looks at the comely pastry cook they kept hidden in the back. He would find any excuse he could to slip into the kitchen, just for the chance to speak with her. At first Anna ignored him, her past experience with men leaving her wary and untrusting. Yet his kind smile and gentle eyes won her over little by little, until the day came when he asked if he might walk her home…and she agreed.

That had been the start of an amazing, whirlwind courtship between Anna Silberg and Charles Daae. And by the end of summer, when he got down on one knee and asked for her hand in marriage, he had so completely won over her heart, that Anna could offer him no other reply but _yes_!

Explaining her obligation to her now bedridden aunt, the two newlyweds moved in with Emma. To the elderly woman's enjoyment, they both took marvelous care of her until her death several months later, leaving this world warm and satisfied with her years.

Anna had long since explained to Charles that while she wanted to be everything to him a wife should be, there was no chance that they could ever have children. Not only due to her advancing age, but primarily because she was barren. This disappointed him greatly, but his love for Anna superseded any craving for a child and he swore he would just have to shower all his extra love on her instead. And for a time this proved to be enough for him.

Yet on a chilly day in May, as Anna walked home in a daze from the doctor's office, she knew the focus of his sole affections would soon be changed forever.

"A baby?" Charles asked, his eyes wide with shock. "I thought you said…that you couldn't…" he was unable to finish his sentence due to the fact that he felt the sudden need to sit down.

"I thought for sure that I couldn't," Anna explained. Though now that she thought back, none of the physicians had been able to explain her inability to conceive. During all the exams, all the tests, they had always pronounced her quite healthy. "Perhaps…perhaps it was Walter who could not father children?"

"Well," Charles said, at last able to rise to his feet and take her in his loving embrace. "It would appear that was the case, since you will soon be having_ my _child!" At this he swept her into his arms and spun her around, causing them both to burst with laughter. "A baby! We are going to have a baby! What would you like it to be, a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"I…I don't know," she answered truthfully, for she had never considered it a viable prospect before this. Yet as she thought of giving birth to a son, her face fell and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Anna…what is wrong?" Charles begged, sitting her down on his lap as he cradled his now weeping wife close to him, soothing her with sweet words. "Tell me why you cry, my lamb."

"There is something about my past I have failed to tell you, my husband," she confessed, never yet having had the courage to share this with him. The time was growing short though, and if she did not find a way to return to France soon, it would be too late. Yet how could she explain to Charles her need to liberate a deformed boy from the clutches of his evil mother, a wicked woman who would send her son to his doom in a little less than six months. So many nights she had lain awake, agonizing over how to tell him about her need to save Erik, yet the words would not come and she feared losing him if she spoke up too soon. However, now with the thought of having her own child, Anna knew she needed to confess this almost frantic need to her husband. "In my heart I…I already have a son…and his name is Erik Trouville."

Charles Daae sat there, holding his wife as she poured out her heart to him, telling of the amazing boy she had once had the privilege of caring for. How he was a musical genius, smart as a whip, kind-hearted and desperately in need of love. Her husband did not say a word the entire time she spoke, her tragic tale of Erik's life often coming out through sobs as she finally explained the circumstances that surrounded their parting.

"I swore I would find a way to go back to him," she revealed at last. "I told him I would never forget him." Anna fell silent, not sure how Charles would react to this news. She had been betrayed before by the man she loved, though last time it was over the sin of _not_ giving him a child. This time she might lose her mate for the mistake of _offering_ him one.

"Well then," Charles said at last, his tone revealing nothing to her worried and distressed mind. "I suppose we must find a way to go get him then, for I cannot have my tender-hearted wife being called a liar for going back on her word, now can I?"

Anna's head jerked up as she stared at her husband, dumbfounded by his offer.

"You mean it?" she gasped, afraid she had somehow misunderstood him. "You…you would go to France and help me rescue Erik?"

"I do not know the boy or his situation and neither have I formed any affection for him like you. But I know and love _you_, my wife, and on your word alone I have confidence that I will come to care for the child in time," Charles assured her, leaning down and kissing her lips gently. "You are my wife and your pain is my pain, just as your happiness is mine as well. I would do anything to see you smile, Anna. Even become father to a desperate boy who obviously needs a good home and family. On this day you have twice blessed me, for God willing, I will soon have _two_ children."

~XXX~

And so, almost two years from the day she left France, Anna stood in front of the old house built by Henri Trouville, gripping her husband's hand out of fear and excitement. Charles Daae was truly an exceptional man to have come all this way on her guarantees alone that he would love the little boy.

She stared up at the attic windows, straining her eyes against the sun in hopes of seeing some sign that Erik yet lived and had survived their forced parting. All the way from Sweden to France she had prayed she would find him safe. Many times Charles had caught her staring out the window of their train car, lost in her memories as her hand caressed the swell of her stomach where their baby grew inside. Would Erik have forgotten her? Would he think she had forgotten him? She had sworn she would return, and Anna prayed that he had believed her - enough to keep him going over the two long years they were apart.

With Charles at her side, Anna found her courage exceeded that which she had possessed the last time she knocked at this door, alone, desperate and seeking employment. Yet this time she felt strong, confident and ready to take on Suzette Trouville, not willing to leave that house a second time without Erik in tow.

It was a long time before their knock was answered, and once again the door was opened only a crack as the familiar face of Suzette came into view. Yet it was not the same prideful countenance Anna remembered that stared back at her, but instead that of a haggard woman, one beaten down and laid low by life. This frightened Anna, for if Suzette appeared this horrible, what might Erik look like as well?

"Who are you?" Suzette spat, squinting her eyes as she glared at Anna and Charles.

Anna opened her mouth but found she could not speak, the past fears and emotions building up in her until she was left mute. She did however feel a measure of pride at seeing Suzette was still missing the tooth she had knocked out at their parting.

Seeing his wife's distress, Charles spoke up in her place.

"I am Charles Daae and this is my wife Anna…we have come to negotiate for the boy, for Erik," he explained, his tone firm and unyielding.

"You what?" Suzette questioned, opening the door a bit wider as she stared at the two of them in wonder. "You came looking for that… _thing_?"

"Erik is not a thing!" Anna shouted, coming out of her trance at Suzette's harsh words. "He is an exceptional child, the likes of which _you_ could never understand!"

"YOU!" Suzette gasped, suddenly recognizing Anna from her vehement defense of her unwanted son. "I thought I told you never to come back here! I could have you arrested for trespassing!"

"Yet if you did," Charles countered, placing his arm protectively around his wife's waist. "You would never hear the proposition we have for you, one that involves quite a bit of money, I might add."

Anna knew that Charles was stretching the truth a bit about the amount of currency he was offering. Before leaving Sweden they had mortgaged their house and borrowed every bit they could, in hopes of it being enough to sway the money-grubbing Suzette into releasing Erik to them.

"Money?" Madame Trouville's eyebrows rose in interest, the man before her having said the exact thing to spark her attention.

"Yes…may we come in?" he inquired, stepping forward and practically pushing his way inside, not allowing Suzette a chance to object. Anna was pulled along beside him and as she entered, she let out a gasp of horror at the state the house was in. Gone was most of the furniture, the decorations and the knick-knacks that had once adorned the parlor. A thick layer of dust covered every surface, even worse than when she had come the first time. Had the house not been cleaned once since she left? What had happened?

"You said you were offering money…how much and for what exactly?" Suzette pressed, not even bothering to appear embarrassed by the disgraceful conditions she was living in.

"We are willing to offer you a substantial amount, in exchange for you turning over custody of the boy you keep in the attic. For Erik," Charles bargained with her. "We know that your deal with your father will expire in just a few months and the money we offer you now could last you quite a long time if you do not spend it frivolously. Now, what say you…will you give us the boy?"

Anna was half expecting Suzette to fly into a rage and throw them out of the house or call for the Gendarmes, but she was most assuredly not prepared for what the woman did next. Madame Trouville began to laugh.

"Oh, this is rich!" she said between snorts of humor. "You come here asking me to hand him over, when all this time I imagined he was with _you!_ I thought you had come back and stolen him away long ago, that you and the little monster had outsmarted me after all. I guess I was wrong."

"What?" Anna's heart sank. "He…he is not here?"

"Hasn't been for almost a year," she confessed, still chuckling to herself over this unexpected turn of events. "I went to feed him one day and he was gone…simply vanished. I have no idea how he managed to free himself with the padlock on the outside of his room, but there it was, lying useless on the floor. That little ghost probably learned how to walk through walls."

"You…you are lying!" Anna shouted at Suzette, panic radiating through her voice. "Erik knew I was coming back…he would have waited! You are hiding him…he is still here, he has to be!"

"You think I'm lying?" she scoffed, taking a cautionary step back at seeing the frantic look in Anna's eyes. "Go then, check for yourself. Search every alcove and behind every piece of furniture - shouldn't take long now that there is hardly anything left. After that ungrateful brat ran away my father cut me off. No more kid meant no more money and I had to sell everything I could in order to feed and clothe myself. I am living in abject poverty thanks to him, I have nothing left and it is all _his_ fault."

Tears had sprung to Anna's eyes at Suzette's words. Not because of any sense of compassion for her plight, but at the idea that she might be telling the truth – that Erik was no longer there. Why had he not waited…why had he not trusted that she would return? Perhaps things had become too bad for him, his evil mother treating him so wickedly that he was forced to flee in order to protect himself. Why had she not come sooner…_why?_ Yet Anna was not about to take Suzette's word on this, she had to find out for herself.

Leaving Charles and Suzette in the parlor, Anna hurried up the stairs, as quickly as the slight swell of her stomach would allow, yelling the boy's name as she went. When she reached his door she found it unlocked and ajar, something Madame Trouville would never have allowed if Erik still resided within. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside, once more calling out to him as she was greeted by nothing but empty space. The room was a mess, the rugs having long ago been ripped from the window by the harsh winds, allowing leaves and debris to litter the floor, and everywhere she looked there were only signs of abandonment. Yet Anna could not shake the fear that Erik may not have left of his own accord. What if Suzette was lying? What if her father had felt the need to punish her further and withdrew his monetary support early, causing her to no longer need Erik? Had she sent him to the lunatic asylum like she threatened…or heaven forbid, done away with him in a fit of rage?

Anna had to know for sure.

Turning around, her eyes fell upon the wall that housed Erik's secret hiding place, still appearing like nothing more than the rest of the room's dilapidated paneling. Crouching down before it, she pressed the secret spot that released an unseen lever, allowing the door to swing open. Holding her breath she looked inside, praying that what she would find would ease her troubled mind. Before her lay Erik's father's books, a stack of paper covered with both drawings and music, but much to her infinite relief…_no paper swan_! Erik had indeed left of his own volition, for if he had been forced out or murdered, the swan would still be there. The fact that it was missing told her that he had taken it with him, a thought that not only touched her heart, but sent waves of relief throughout her body. Erik was gone…but at least he was free. He had not been sent away, or locked up in some hellish prison, only to be beaten and starved for the simple crime of his pitiful little face.

Yet…where was he now? He may have left of his own free will, but what had become of him since? Over the past two years she had always envisioned him here, waiting for her to return, but now a new horror took hold. Erik was alone in the world, wandering aimlessly and possibly searching for her! This thought brought a fresh set of tears to her eyes as she reached in and removed the books and papers, clutching them to her chest as her only tangible link to the boy she had grown to love. Was this all she would ever have of him? The only things to remember him by? She looked around the room, desperately searching for something he might have left behind, anything that could tell her where he had gone. But the room was empty. So with one last look around, she quietly shut the door and made her way back down to the parlor, her steps this time much more subdued.

When Charles saw his distraught wife reappear, he hurried to her side, searching her eyes for any sign of hope. When she collapsed in his arms and sobbed into his chest, he knew the truth – her precious Erik was indeed gone.

"I told you the little beast had left," Suzette scoffed, unaffected by Anna's sorrow. "I suppose I can take a bit of comfort in the knowledge that he is not living in some warm house with plenty to eat and drink like I have been imagining all this time, while I am left here to starve."

Suzette's words were barely out of her mouth when she saw Anna break away from her husband and lunge towards her, her hand raised to deliver a punishing blow for the horrible things she had just said. Suzette stumbled backwards, a cry of fear escaping her lips as she imagined another tooth falling victim to the woman's fist of iron. Yet before Anna could land her blow, Charles sprang forward and grabbed her arm, holding it at bay.

"Anna!" Charles cried out in shock, doing his best to steady his wife, her fist still quaking with the urge to silence Suzette. "Think of the baby!" he warned, watching her cringe at his words, her eyes glancing towards her stomach. Though Anna had long ago confessed to having knocked out Suzette's tooth at their parting, Charles had never seen _this_ side of his wife first hand before - this wild and protective she-cat with claws. And while he was grateful that she seemed to have calmed down at his reminder of their unborn child, he found he rather liked this side of her!

"You were never fit to care for a houseplant, let alone a child as special as Erik!" Anna shouted at Suzette. "If I thought it would help or bring Erik back I would happily beat you senseless and feel no remorse over the deed. Yet if I did, that would make me no better than you and I will never dishonor Erik's memory by such a sinful deed. I hope you rot in this house, this prison of your own making, and on your deathbed you lament the wickedness of your life and all the suffering you have caused that innocent child. He deserved better than you for a mother….he deserved much better!" And still grasping the few treasures Erik had left behind, Anna turned on her heels and stormed from the house, never looking back.

Erik was gone and that house now held nothing but grief for her. She would forget it existed, forget such evil as Suzette lived in this world…but she would never forget Erik.

She was vaguely aware that Charles was beside her as they made their way out the rusty old gate and headed back to the train station, the astute man never saying a word. It was not until they were far enough away that there was no chance Suzette might see, that Anna at last broke down, falling to her knees in the grass by an old tree. Laying Erik's things down, she sobbed into her hands, feeling the comforting arms of her husband as they wrapped around her from behind. Charles lovingly pulled her into the safety of his chest as he rocked her back and forth.

"I am sorry Anna, so very sorry," he said, doing his best to comfort her. "You did all you could…it was just not meant to be."

"He trusted me, Charles. He was counting on me to save him," she cried, unable to stop. "Now he is out there, somewhere, all alone and frightened."

"We don't know that," he countered. "For all you know he has found himself a fine home, a new life and a better future. If he is as smart and talented as you say, there is no telling how he might be living now. You must have faith, Anna. You cannot give up hope."

"I will never give up hope of seeing him again," she assured her kind-hearted husband. "I will never stop loving him either."

"I never expected that you would, my lamb," Charles nodded. "That is why I fell in love with you, for your amazing capacity to love. After all, you took pity on a tired old musician such as me, didn't you?"

His words caused her to smile slightly, yet the aching in her heart over the loss of Erik could not be soothed that easily. But as she looked down, running her hand over her stomach and imagining the child that grew within, Anna knew she could not let this grief consume her. A new life was counting on her, one she swore would never know the horrors that Erik had needlessly suffered.

"I will protect you always, my darling one," she whispered to her unborn child. "You will never know hunger, never know loneliness and you will always know you are loved. I am just so terribly sorry that you will not have a big brother here to greet you when you arrive. That you will never know the amazing man Erik was destined to become."

"We should go, Anna," Charles announced after a bit. "If we hurry we might be able to catch an earlier train back home. There is no reason to stay any longer."

"Yes….this town only holds bad memories now that Erik is gone," Anna agreed, then something occurred to her. "But first, I need to go see a man."

"A man? What man?" Charles tried to keep the twinge of jealousy out of his tone, but he knew he had failed. It was something he had dealt with many times before, his extreme aversion to having men stare at his beautiful wife wherever they went. For even in her mid-thirties, Anna was still a stunning woman, one whose inner beauty lit up a room just as much as her outward appearance. Charles knew he would never stop feeling possessive of the treasure he had found.

"A Monsieur Collier," Anna told him, squeezing his hand as she did indeed notice his slightly jealous comment. "He was Erik's father's lawyer and he needs to know that even though Erik has run away…that the heir to the Trouville fortune does indeed exist. I do not want him to believe any rumors or Suzette's word on the matter should he choose to investigate. I can only pray we find Erik soon, so I can tell him about his inheritance, but if he does not show up to claim his money when he comes of age, Monsieur Collier needs to know why. I have to tell him the truth…he needs to know Erik is alive. Or…at least I pray that he is."

"Shhhhh, Anna, don't even think that way," Charles soothed, running the palm of his hand over her hair in a comforting gesture.

"I know…it's just…I can't help but worry," she confessed. "He is so little…so young and so desperately alone. He needs me, just as much as I need him." She then turned her head into his chest, burying her face in his protective warmth. "Could you please hold me for a little longer…just hold me?"

"Forever," Charles promised.

With that, Anna gripped his shirt tighter and nestled further into her husband's embrace, sobbing uncontrollably until there were no tears left.

* * *

**Well? Did you see that coming? That Anna is Christine's mom? I would think that fact that she married Charles Daae, and is currently pregnant, was a dead give away, ha ha. Some of you had already guessed this little plot twist...you smart cookies...but I HOPE I was able to shock a few of my readers. DID I?**

**Ok, so now Erik is in the wind...But don't worry, we will be seeing him in the very next chapter. **

**I think Suzette is getting her 'reward in full' now with her horrible life and the fact she is destitute. It is the LEAST she deserves, grrrrrrrrrr.**

**Charles is pretty nice though, right? Willing to adopt Erik on just her say so.**

**Ok, get ready for the MAIN part of the story to begin in the next chapter...hang on to your hats, my lovelies, we are jumping in with both feet!**

**Reviews please?**


	11. Chapter 11

**I am posting early tonight since you all went above and beyond and I got over 50 reviews for my last chapter! Thanks and for your wonderful support, here is an early posting!**

**Well, the 'Prologue' is over...now comes the meat of the story. I am sorry I had to do a lot of narrative in this chapter, but there is much time to cover here and you have to know what Erik has been up to. I prefer chapters with lots of dialog, but in this situation, it can not be helped. **

**And just so none of you will worry, I am NOT going to kill off Christine's parents like every other story does. They are safe..._for now_...ha ha.**

**And if anyone wants to see Little Chef Erik...go check out the icon for the writer/reader named "BeneathaMoonlessNight"...she drew a picture of him and Anna baking. So cute! **

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**Guest Reviews**

**Jobizzle: **Yes, having them all one family would have been nice...until Christine came of age and Erik started eyeing his 'sister' in that way...then things would have been AWKWARD. ha ha And who in the world said Anna had to die? This is Fan Fiction...I can do whatever I want! ha ha.

**TheRebbs98:** Define 'THAT WAY', ha ha. Like a sister...or a lover? Since i said this was an E/C story, you guess. ha ha. And yes, it WAS Walter shooting blanks, not Anna's fault.

**Guessst:** I shocked you huh? Great! Oh, honey, there are a million reasons why Raoul and Christine should NOT end up together...some very odd and non related family ties are the least of their worries. ha ha.

**syrianlight:** *Beams with pride* Oh the cleverness of me! Who is Collin and what is his/her book plot? I am following the story/movie/play a bit here and there, but I am using artistic license as well. Anna deserved to find a nice guy like Charles and have her own baby. I don't think Erik will mind much either, ha ha.

**Guest:** I am glad you are hooked on my story. Do Fan Fiction, not drugs! ha ha. As for your question, check my author's notes above.

**PhantomChristine:** Yes I am happy, thanks for asking. ha ha. Um...as for where Erik is/was...you are just going to have to keep reading and take your life in your own hands. I can not be held responsible for what you might read. I agree, Erik and Christine as siblings would be ICKY!

**Mystery:** I will do my best to give you all that you asked for. And I am sorry my swan thing made you collapse in a heap of tears...you might want to invest in some tissues...just warning you. And I will update three times a week, right on schedule...does that constitute as "Erik efficiency speed"? ha ha And I am also sorry I devistated you with chapter 9. My apologies.

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**Chapter 11**

**What A Pity**

**1879 – Paris France**

* * *

Erik could feel the slight chill in the air, and that, combined with the dead leaves lying at his feet, told him one thing…fall had come to Paris. Yet it would not bother him. Not the biting cold nor the scorching sun, for he had long ago become immune to their ravaging effects on his battered body. It was simply another state of being, another form of torture this world had chosen to inflict upon him, and thus he pushed such inconveniences from his mind. They simply did not matter.

What did matter was that the infernal Persian was late…_again!_ It was _he_ who insisted that Erik make his way out of his labyrinthine home and journey to the surface once a week to meet with him, so why the bloody hell couldn't the man be on time? It would serve him right if he left that very moment and never bothered coming back. Erik gave a wry smile as he imagined the look of anger and frustration on his insufferable companion's face if he were to show up only to find him gone. He would have done it too, but if he had truly left, how would he be able to see his look of disappointment? This conundrum kept him rooted where he stood, his back leaning against the stone wall near the secret exit to his lair of catacombs and tunnels. Erik wondered why he didn't feel more like a mole than a human, scurrying around in the dark underground, able to see his way and surroundings with little or no light. Yet if truth be told, he could not recall a time when he had felt completely human either. Oh, no, his dear sweet _mother_ had long ago beat that thought from his mind, leaving him to relate more to the non-biased animal world…so perhaps a mole was a good analogy after all.

Erik looked down as the wind carried a piece of stray newspaper to his feet. He bent and picked it up, scanning the headlines to see if he might have missed anything of significance that was going on in this world above. When he saw it was the social page, he rolled his eyes in disgust. The last thing he needed to read about was the love-lives of the rich and elite of Paris, for he saw quite enough of _that_ from his private box at the opera. It sickened him to watch the hoity-toity socialites as they paraded yet another dolled up tart around on their arms - as if no one knew they were only having a bit of fun until at their dear old dad's insistence, they reluctantly wed a prudish girl of class. Thankfully, Erik was far above such animalistic and base urges, preferring to focus his energies on music and architecture - pursuits worthy of his vast intelligence. There was no need for love, no time for such frivolity, not when there were arias to write, operas to create and masterpieces to design. For Erik, love simply no longer existed or mattered.

Glancing at his hands, he saw that without even realizing it, he had expertly fashioned the discarded piece of newsprint into the elegant shape of a swan. The sight of it immediately bringing back his one and only fond memory.

_Anna._

Anna had been the sole person in the world he had ever loved. She had given him his first taste of affection, his first motherly kiss and introduced him to the wonders of music. Before her, no one had ever shown him an ounce of compassion or kindness, yet she had been driven from his side by that wicked woman who refused to even claim him as her son. But Anna had wanted him, she had said so herself. She would have taken him away with her and he could have found a happy life…._they_ could have been a true family. However, long ago time and experience had proven to Erik that he had not been created to experience love or joy.

How long had it been since he had seen his beloved nanny? Had over two decades truly flown by since he last laid eyes on her? The mere thought made Erik feel old and world-weary beyond his thirty-one years, suddenly longing for his cozy chair and a good book in front of the fireplace in his underground home. A great deal of time had passed since he was that young boy of eight, but due to his brilliant and ever-working mind, he remembered it like it was yesterday.

~XXX~

He had originally been determined to wait for Anna to keep her promise and return for him. He had told her to leave that day, begged her to do so in fact, fearing what Suzette might have done if she stayed. He had ruined everything that fateful day with his incessant curiosity and need to hear an organ play. His nightly visits to the church had cost him his only happiness, leaving him to vow that he would never set foot inside a place of worship again. Yet as the months crept on and time passed, Erik began to fear that Anna might never return. That she had not come back for him…_because she couldn't!_ What if something had happened to her? What if Suzette had lied and made good on her threat to see his kind-hearted nanny locked up for her crimes against her personage. It had brought a secret smile to Erik's lips every time he saw the gaping hole in Suzette's teeth when she bothered to bring him something to eat. It was a constant reminder that someone had once loved him enough to fight for him and that thought alone had kept him going. Until the day when his fear and uncertainty could no longer be contained and Erik set out on his own to find Anna – to be reunited with the only person who had ever shown him an ounce of compassion.

He left to find love.

Unfortunately, the exact opposite found _him! _The greedy faces, cruel laughs and biting whip from his gypsy captors became his new companions for the next period of his life. Four years he had been kept in a cage, locked up like an animal…no, worse than that, for even the gypsies treated their beasts of burden with more care and compassion than they showed him. That was where he had further learned to ignore the cold; the chilling winds, the freezing rain and the swirling snow that would blow mercilessly in through the open bars of his cage. It was nothing short of inhumane.

Yet that was nothing compared to the treatment he received when he refused to perform for the paying customers as his captors ordered. Beatings, whippings and being bound and gagged became the norm as he stubbornly balked against the angry demands of his tormentors. To immediately give in would have been the wise thing to do, to acquiesce and willingly perform, but Erik had never been one to bow to another's wishes...at least not right away. Yet when the threats had escalated to horrendous proportions, Erik was forced to comply. Still, no matter what, he retained the smallest glimmer of hope, dreaming of the day he would escape that hellish nightmare. They may have had the power to destroy his body, but…they never fully broke his mind.

Thus when his opportunity finally came, four years later, he was still just sane enough to take it. Willing to risk untold punishment if caught, he fled from the camp in the dead of night, never to be seen by them again. The following years as a wandering nomad took him across Europe and into many of the oriental countries, searching for something…though even he no longer knew what. His hopes of ever seeing Anna again had long since died during his stay at the gypsy camp. Much the same as his treasured paper swan had been ground beneath the boot of his evil master - his first taste of punishment for refusing to show his face. It had been his last link to his one true friend and as he watched it dissolve and melt into the mud that night, he had felt that familiar searing pain, as if she had been ripped from his side all over again. That was the last time he allowed an enemy to see him cry.

He had done everything possible to find Anna, yet there was very little he could do in the way of searching. It was not as if a young masked boy could inquire about a missing woman and not raise suspicion, often having to run from some angry or fearful person when he had dared ask if they had seen or heard of her. She appeared to have been swallowed up in the endless sea of people this world had seen fit to create and shelter. He only hoped that she had found a proper home and true happiness. For after everything she had done for him, that was the least she deserved.

By the time he reached the age of eighteen, he felt he had achieved manhood, in both mind and body. He had always had a conspicuous figure; his tall, thin frame brought just as many stares as the mask he continued to wear. Though he appeared almost frail, his skin pulled taut over his bones, his strength had grown and he was able to lift and carry more than those twice his size. This strength not only came in handy when forced to defend himself against the cruel and the curious, but also allowed him to find work on many construction sites throughout Italy and Germany. The fact that he wore a mask did not seem to matter to many foremen who were only looking for a strong back and willing hands – they couldn't have cared less if a keen mind came along with it. Had he wished to bring attention to himself - which he didn't - Erik could have put their most talented masons to shame with the knowledge he contained in his young mind. Many times at night he would remain behind at the construction site and dream of how he would have designed such a building, imagining the greatness it could possess if he were given free rein.

However, the skill that seemed to bring him the most profit was illusions. His audiences would call it magic, but that would always make him smile or scoff; what fools they were! Sleight of hand, prestidigitation or as the French called it, legerdemain - literally translated, "light of hand" - was his bread and butter. The people he entertained were easily impressed and thankfully even more easily relieved of their money, allowing him to buy necessities such as food and shelter when he desired.

Erik had never thought himself a handsome man, his mother had been quite thorough in teaching him the facts on that subject, yet he did what he could to remain clean and decently attired. He continued to groom his hair exactly the way Anna had showed him, though with more access to sunlight and a variety of foods, he found that the patches of baldness had almost disappeared. Erik wished he could say the same for the distortion on his face…and now his body. It had come as quite the blow to him when he discovered that the monster in the mirror he had feared all his life was none other than himself. The gypsy master had taken great pleasure that night in torturing his little mind with that knowledge, forcing him to stare for hours into the cracked glass he placed before him. That night as he lay there shivering in the cold, he couldn't help but wonder why Anna had never told him. _Why, Anna…why?_ From that day forward Erik detested all reflective surfaces, wishing to avoid any chance that he might see that image again.

It was about this time, during his travels in Russia, that a young and impressionable Erik gave into the lure of adventure when an oddly dressed Persian man approached him with a tempting offer. Flattering Erik with tales of how his fame as a master magician had reached the ears of the Shah of Persia, the man extended an invitation to return with him at the request of the mighty ruler. Looking back, that was probably the single most detrimental decision Erik had ever made – and that was truly saying something. Yet he willingly went, journeying to a foreign country where he knew nothing of what to expect.

Five years he remained a prisoner of that land, yet not in the typical form of chains and captivity…at least not at first. Upon his arrival he was considered a marvel, his tricks were met with rounds of applause and he was led to believe that he had reached a status that commanded respect. Yet all too soon he learned the truth. He watched as his harmless illusions were morphed into something sinister, his talents used for torture and his brilliant mind transformed into a tool for the demented. The Shah no longer wished to be entertained by mere tricks, he wanted blood, broken bones and screams of agony. At first Erik refused to build the torture chambers the twisted ruler craved, never giving in to the brutal beatings or threats of endless imprisonment. Yet even he was unable to fight against the mind-numbing drug that were forcibly pumped into his unwilling veins. By the third application of this form of 'coercion' Erik had truly become a prisoner in Persia, a prisoner to this addiction.

The following years in that hazy drug induced fog took its toll, on Erik's body and his mind. Soon, employed as the Shah's favorite assassin, he silently and efficiently brought an end to any and all who dared oppose the ruler's tyrannical will. Erik had been trained by the best in his travels and his weapon of choice had become the dreaded Indian Punjab lasso. It was a swift and extremely painful way to die and Erik had become a master at stealth, silently creeping up on his victims and wrapping the thin cord of catgut around their necks, ending them with one swift jerk or making them linger in agony as he slowly choked the life out of them.

Erik found that the drug easily fueled his hate, his violent streak and his desire for revenge against the world that had treated him so abominably. And when the Shah was feeling exceptionally cruel, he would chain Erik up and withhold the drug for a time, waiting until he was practically mad with need of it. Then he was thrown into a ring for entertainment, forced to battle to the death with whomever was deemed worthy enough to challenge his unique skills. With the promise of the drug as his reward, Erik would eagerly dispense with whomever he was pitted against, all to the immense pleasure of the Shah. Looking back now, Erik remembered very little of that time and he was grateful for it. Yet still, even now he would often awake at night, screaming and clawing at the walls as flashes of his violent deeds and dreadful acts returned to haunt his dreams.

With that vile liquid running rampant within him, Erik had done things he had never dreamed himself capable, mentally or physically, and it sickened him. Little by little that flicker of goodness that Anna had fanned and nurtured within him began to be extinguished, but the day he awoke from his drug induced stupor, covered in blood that was not his own, Erik knew he had to stop.

Oddly enough, his salvation came from the most unlikely of sources: Amir Dessan, the Daroga of Mazanderan and the very man who had originally escorted him to Persia. It was he who suggested that Erik offer the Shah something more valuable than his skills as a killer…his services as an architect. With the aid of Amir, Erik began to slowly wean himself off of the debilitating drug and as soon as he was free of that hazy, forgetful fog, he once more used his ingenious mind to create rather than destroy. He designed such a marvelous palace that the Shah was left drooling with anticipation for such an impressive abode! He spent his final years in Persia working tirelessly on this magnificent creation, an edifice that would stand the test of time and proclaim to all the world Erik's genius. Unfortunately this is what proved to be his ultimate undoing, for the moment the last stone was set in place, the Shah ordered Erik's immediate execution, effectively guaranteeing that he alone would be the only one ever to possess such a palace.

Thankfully the one sent to carry out these orders was none other than Amir himself, and the kind-hearted man was unwilling to see it accomplished. By the use of trickery and misdirection, Erik was able to escape Persia with his head still intact, warned by the Daroga to never dare set foot within its borders again. Erik never learned how his unlikely savior had managed to avoid his own beheading for his act of betrayal, but he figured the man must have known what he was doing. If not, then Erik decided that the sentimental sap deserved what he got for his foolish act of mercy.

Erik had left Persia with a substantial amount of money and stolen jewels, but once again he was without a home or country. His thirst for adventure and feelings of wanderlust had faded over the past five years and soon Erik found himself settled in the quiet little coastal village of Savona, within the Liguria region of northwestern Italy. Here Erik began his recuperation, strengthening his mind and body once more after the ravaging effects of the Shah's drugs and torture. It was there he met a man named Charles Garnier, who was also convalescing after a bout of illness. They had both been admiring the same old building one day, eyeing each other suspiciously as they circled the stone walls and crumbling architecture. Monsieur Garnier was obviously unnerved by the sight of this imposing man in a mask, while Erik was just wary of people in general. Yet in the end, they felt compelled to inquire on the other's obvious interest in the stonework, striking up a conversation and the most unlikely of bonds.

After that, many long days and enjoyable evenings were spent huddled around a table in some secluded restaurant, poring over drawings and designs, each one marveling at the other's innovative ideas on construction. It was here that Erik found out Monsieur Garnier was the mastermind behind the new opera house being built in Paris. Unfortunately construction had come to a halt during the Franco-Prussian War and the siege on Paris, leaving the partially completed building to be used as a makeshift hospital and food storage facility. Garnier had become seriously ill due to the deprivations of the war, as well as the grief of seeing his creation so misused, causing him to flee to the quiet village of Savona. His assistant, Louis Louvet, remained behind and sent him many distressing letters concerning the continued devastation of his masterpiece, telling of how troops from the National Guard were currently bivouacked there. Because of his deteriorating health and apparent failure to complete the building on time - even if it was through no fault of his own - Garnier was lived in fear that he would be replaced as chief architect. So it came as quite a shock when a message from Louvet arrived saying that construction was ordered to resume by the new Third Republic of France, even though only a small amount of funds were allotted by the new legislature for the work.

However, Garnier's confidence had been rattled, and concerned over his weakened health, Charles begged Erik to accompany him to France and lend his support during the final leg of construction. At first Erik was reluctant, he had not been back to his homeland since the gypsies had carried him across its border during their journeys, and he had never thought to return. Yet the idea of helping to build a place that would house the greatest music in the world was a temptation he could not resist, and soon Erik agreed.

Garnier understood his new companion's reluctance to work in the public eye and granted him the ability to remain behind the scenes as much as possible, while still providing his invaluable assistance. He even hired a young worker named Victor Batton to be at Erik's beck and call, willing to run all sorts of errands his masked employer required, without complaint or question. Over the next few years, the boy was kept very busy; be it scouring every quarry for the perfect piece of marble, or a last minute run to a local bakery for a box of rose biscuits that Erik enjoyed so dearly. The few architects or masons that worked alongside Erik, thought him both overly demanding and completely unreasonable when it came to his expectations. Yet, even they were forced to admit that his ideas were nothing short of ingenious, and that all the ornate gilding the opera house quickly became famous for was a direct result of Erik's magnificent designs. The building truly became a palace in its own right, as he incorporated many of the techniques and secret passageways he had originally designed for the Shah. It was a matter of devious pride for Erik to know that after the completion of the opera house, the Shah of Persia would no longer have a one-of-a-kind creation, for all of Paris would soon enjoy the same masterful design.

Thus began the next chapter in Erik's life: that of creating not only the magnificent opera house that millions of patrons would see on the surface, but that of a secret underground home hidden beneath it. The idea came to him one day while exploring the vast cellars when he stumbled upon the subterranean lake that served as a holding tank for excess water. The underground lake was fed through aqueducts and channels from the Seine that ran through Paris, thus insuring that it would not dry up even in the hot summer months. The surrounding tunnels and catacombs reminded him of the comforting cellar he once loved when he was little, the creative hideaway that he and Anna had kept secret from his evil mother. As he stood there, listening to the soothing sound of the lapping waters, it gave him a sense of peacefulness he had been sorely lacking in his life. Looking around at the caves and stone walls, with eyes that had long ago become accustomed to dark places, his mind began to spin as a vision slowly took shape. A vision he soon made into reality.

Thus, before the grand inauguration of the Palais Garnier, held on January 5th, 1875, Erik had long since completed his secret lair, cleverly tucked beneath his greatest accomplishment. It was then he chose to entomb himself for all time beneath the home of his one faithful love,_ music_, rather than deal with the cruel and curious eyes that never seemed to give him a moment's peace. At that time, Erik had only reached the age of twenty seven, yet inside he felt very, very old. He had done so much in his short years, lived through multiple lifetimes – many of a horrific nature – so that all he wished to do now was rest.

The cozy apartments he built for himself incorporated many of his father's original designs, yet where he could, he used modern technology to allow him to make improvements. He had hot and cold running water, thanks to a few strategically placed pipes near the boiler room, utilized by the opera house. He also designed an elaborate lavatory, complete with a water waste-disposal system and a clawfoot porcelain tub, large enough to hold even his lanky frame comfortably. His kitchen was quite innovative and Erik had taken great pride over the fact that he had installed one of the highly sought-after gas cooking stoves. They were now being manufactured in England by the Smith and Phillips Company, and after taking several months to arrive, it had been expertly set in place and hooked to the gas pipes that ran throughout the opera house meant to feed the lighting system. And even though Erik had also fitted his own home with the same form of illumination, more times than not he still enjoyed the gentle glow of candlelight over the harshness of the gas lamps. After years of working at night and staying amongst the shadows, his eyes were often sensitive to such garish lights, so candles were his preferred method of illumination.

Yet he would have to admit that his most prized possession was the magnificent pipe organ he had built into the wall of his music room. Its design had truly been a labor of love, each pipe and key painstakingly laid in place by his own two hands. Erik had gone all out when constructing his new home, withholding no luxury or indulgence that he could afford or create.

Despite the numerous differences of opinion and creative arguments shared over their years of construction, Erik and Garnier parted company quite amiably. Upon completion of the opera house, a tired and frail Charles Garnier built himself a retirement home on the Italian Riviera and lived out the remainder of his life in relative peace. Unfortunately that left the opera house in the hands of the French government and the two managers, Monsieurs Maurice Debienne and Richard Poligny, whom Erik soon found to be highly incompetent and completely lacking in any musical aptitude. This intolerable situation forced Erik to take on a ghostly persona in order to see that business was handled correctly, in what he now considered to be_ his_ opera house. Countless threatening notes on how best to run things were secretly delivered to the managers' locked office, thanks to his endless array of tunnels and hidden passages. Each one was signed by the infamous O.G., or Opera Ghost, as he began to call himself. Each letter warned them that if they did not comply with his wishes, a disaster of monumental proportions would befall the company. At first his missives were ignored but after a few well-placed, yet relatively harmless _accidents_, they quickly fell in line. Over the past four years, Erik had continued to take on a more active role in management, directing the opera house to the height of glory. He even went so far as to choose the season's program and hand selected the cast and orchestra members.

Erik was not ashamed to admit this gave him a sense of power, a feeling he greatly enjoyed. His new spectral moniker – The Opera Ghost, or Phantom – only strengthened his determination to remain in complete control. He reveled at how the silly chorus-girls would whisper his name in hushed tones or how the ballet rats would squeal and scurry along whenever they thought they saw a shadow behind them. He was greatly feared…and with that fear came _respect._

As the omnipotent Opera Ghost, Erik had created for himself a comfortable existence – even extorting a hefty monthly salary from the easily browbeaten managers. Erik saw no shame in taking the money they left for him, incurring no ridiculous guilt, for he felt he more than earned every sou with his invaluable advice and direction. His salary would be delivered to his private box - one that he instructed was never to be sold to the public for performances - by the kind woman who served as the box keeper, Antoinette Giry. Her daughter just happened to be among the ballet rats, quite talented, yet still young and in need of direction. The blond little dancer most ardently believed in the existence of the ghost and was the first to accuse the Phantom of every little mishap and honest accident that occurred at the opera. Erik truly had young Meg Giry's overactive imagination to thank for much of his fame.

To show his appreciation for such publicity, Erik made sure that both were kept employed, as well as plied the mother with occasional treats of chocolates as a personal thank you for her diligent deliveries. He often wondered how Antoinette explained such gifts to her husband, Giles, who frequently came to escort his wife home at night. The man was quite pleasant looking, with a mop of curly hair the same shade as his daughter's. Giles always appeared quick with a laugh or a smile, and apparently Antoinette showed no hesitation in greeting him with a loving kiss…even in public! Erik learned that Monsieur Giry was a rather successful banker, and was able to afford a comfortable home near the opera house. However, as a dancer, Meg was expected to live in the dorm rooms with the other girls, allowing her to be on hand for early morning practice and performances that ran late into the evenings. All in all, they were a pleasant enough family, and since they obeyed his directions and gave him no grief, Erik was satisfied.

Everything had been perfect, until the appearance of his previous Persian liberator disrupted it all. The man had immigrated to France, and upon discovering Erik's whereabouts, as well as how he was currently manipulating the inhabitants of the opera house, he had annoyingly set himself up as Erik's tangible conscience. According to Amir Dessan, this position required that Erik meet with him once a week, so he could ascertain if Erik had fallen back into his murderous ways or stepped over some imaginary line of moral conduct. Erik scoffed as he contemplated all the things he could easily do without the pesky Persian ever being the wiser. Even though the overly pious Amir threatened to expose him if he failed to comply, it was only out of courtesy that Erik kept these weekly appointments, for he truly felt no fear or personal obligation to do so. In fact it had often crossed his mind that all he need do was kill the foolish man and be done with it, yet Erik had had his fill of death and the idea of taking one more life needlessly left him cold. So even though he cared very little for the man's threats or feelings, he continued to come to this place as scheduled simply because at the time he had nothing better to do. At least this was what he _told_ himself.

~XXX~

So there he stood, waiting in the shadows and watching the moon rise over Paris, while that irritating man kept him waiting. _Again!_ Erik reached into his vest and checked his pocket watch; the man was most definitely late and he had so many other things that needed his attention. For one there was the festival to prepare for, and with it the hopes of finding a new lead soprano for the upcoming season's production. When he was forced to oust the last resident Diva, Erik had suggested through a series of very explicit notes that the managers needed to search high and low for new and upcoming talent. The pickings had become very slim indeed within the small circle of singers he had been exposed to thus far. Screeching old biddies, the whole lot of them! If Erik wanted to hear such horrendous sounds emanating from someone, he would simply apply his Punjab lasso around their necks and give a sharp tug.

It had been Erik's brilliant idea to send out scouts to every country fair, music house and school near and far in search of anyone with the proper voice and desire to sing at the Opera Garnier. They would compete in a grand competition and the winner would be offered a position of great renown…_if _they pleased _him_ of course. The managers may have thought they were in charge, but in the end, Erik had the final say. He always did. Yet there was still much to be done and he could not waste his time waiting around for that ridiculous Persian. Erik was just about to give up when he spotted Amir hurrying his way down the deserted street, his face a bit red from his quickened steps.

"You're late," Erik growled out as he came near.

"It was unavoidable, I assure you," Amir declared, taking a few deep breaths as he began to relax. "The streets along the Seine were blocked with rescue teams and emergency personnel, all attempting to render aid. I had a devil of a time navigating around them all."

"Rescue teams? What for?" Erik asked, only partially interested. He had already spent far too much time away from his music that night and he wished to get this farce of a visit over with and return to his lair.

"Did you not hear?" Amir asked, eyeing him in amazement, but then he slowly nodded in understanding. "Of course not, how could you, all burrowed away down there like you are? I am surprised you even remember what day it is and deem me worthy of your time at all."

"Often I do not, yet I know if I did not bother to come up, you would simply come _down_ and I will_ not_ have that!" Erik countered, crossing his arms in indignation. "You may feel you can navigate my vast array of traps, but I for one do not wish to take time out of my busy life to dispose of your dead body, should you fail in your attempt."

"Well then, that sounds suspiciously like a challenge," Amir huffed, purposefully ignoring Erik's blatant death threat. "But as for the rescue workers, they have been dispatched because there was an accident earlier today. A party barge with many socialites on board exploded, killing several and throwing many more into the river. They believe the boiler on the craft blew up, causing the damage and sinking it almost immediately. It is reported that many are still unaccounted for. Quite tragic."

"Yes, very," Erik replied, sounding almost bored.

"Erik, if you would raise your head above ground once in a while and take an interest in humanity, it might in turn take an interest in you," Amir scolded, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping away the few beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead from his hasty journey.

"That is exactly what I am trying to avoid, Daroga," Erik said in a bitter voice. "The last thing I desire is for this world to take an interest in me. I learned long ago that it is best to remain hidden, secret…_safe_."

"Then I would suggest you abandon this juvenile pretense of acting like a ghost," Amir scolded, earning a very lethal glare from the dangerous man behind the mask. "From what Monique tells me, you have been particularly demanding of late. You even critiqued her ballet routine last week, rather harshly I might add."

"I speak only the truth. If La Sorelli's performance was not up to par, I have no qualms about bringing it to her attention. I will not spare her my opinion simply because she is spending time with you…or warming your bed, Persian," Erik informed him in no uncertain terms. "Emotional attachments have no place in the arts. If you truly care for the girl, quit taking up all her time – time she should be spending on honing _her_ body, not giving pleasure to _yours._ Besides, I find it rather disgraceful for a woman in her twenties to be cavorting around with a man of _your_ advanced age! I am shocked you have not yet had an attack of apoplexy."

"I may be getting close to my fifties, but I am far from decrepit!" Amir spat, obviously taking offence at Erik's words. "Besides, what is wrong with a bit of female companionship now and then? _You_ might prefer to live the life of a Tibetan monk, but I do not. Women can provide an array of pleasures and delights and I for one am quite pleased that Monique has a dancer's body – a very limber one at that."

"Must you speak so vulgarly?" Erik complained, cringing slightly at the man's words. Since the day he had reached puberty, Erik had fought to suppress his sexual urges, keeping his carnal desires in check …and thus far he had been successful. Even in Persia he had refused to partake of such pleasures, no matter how many times the Shah had offered him the use of his harem girls, believing that no woman would ever give herself over to him…at least not willingly. And while he had done many terrible things, performed multiple sins and crimes, he had never once taken advantage of a helpless female. Had he ever come close to succumbing, the vision of Anna as she stood in the kitchen and lamented her sad tale of her husband's abandonment and misuse of her would flash before his eyes. Erik would never desecrate her memory by doing such a detestable thing to a woman. Thus he remained unfamiliar with the joys of the flesh. "Besides, the majority of women I have come in contact with were worthless creatures, some of them almost inhuman." His charming mother springing to mind as a prime example.

"Well, I might be willing to agree with you, having known several such as you describe," Amir replied thoughtfully. "Yet, I have also known and loved a few in my time, which leads me to feel otherwise. And Monique Sorelli, I am happy to report, falls in that second category. I have to say, it is a very convenient way to keep tabs on you as well. For after our passion play, she is quite the chatty little thing and enjoys regaling me with tales of your exploits."

"You are only sleeping with the lady for information?" Even Erik found he was a bit aghast at the idea.

"Hardly," Amir laughed, allowing a roguish smile to light his weathered face. "I would continue to seek out Monique's company even if she knew nothing of your misdeeds," he assured him. "You do yourself a disservice by not availing yourself of the pleasures a woman can offer, Erik. You must know that money is the great equalizer, and from what I assume you have now amassed, you could easily afford to purchase a night or two in the arms of some lovely lady."

"You are treading on very thin ice, Daroga!" Erik growled, his words coming out through clenched teeth. "I suggest you put an end to this subject before I decide never to grace you with my presence again. Is this why you feel it necessary to meet with me? To insult and disgust me with talk of your conquests?"

"No, of course not," Amir conceded, looking a bit contrite. "I apologize for my offensive words. And you know very well why I schedule these meetings. To make sure you are behaving yourself and not killing, maiming or harassing anyone needlessly. I would also like to reassure my conscience that you have not returned to the drugs I worked so hard to get out of your veins. It would be a shame to waste a mind like yours for one moment longer on such vile poison."

"And what could you possibly do to stop me if I had returned to it?" Erik asked, a hint of challenge in his tone. "Who is to say I have not done so already and merely hide it from you? It would be quite easy for me to do and you would be none the wiser."

"Ahhhh, but you wouldn't," Amir surmised. "You have shown me many times that you seem incapable of feeling guilt, so attempting to hide something from me would make no sense."

"True," Erik nodded. He did not feel any need to impress Amir, nor did he feel any compulsion to gain his approval. If he were indeed back on the drugs, he would have told him outright and felt no remorse at all. "Yet you may rest easy, Daroga, there will be no drug induced killing spree this week." He then pulled up his sleeves, displaying the mangled flesh to the eyes of the man before him. There were old scars from the gypsy camp, as well as a few from his days in Persia, yet there were no new needle marks that might indicate he was once more addicted.

"I will sleep better tonight knowing that," Amir nodded. "And speaking of such, I think it is time I take my leave and head home. I will see you next week, _old friend_."

Erik scoffed at the title. Old friend indeed. Associate perhaps, acquaintance at best, but certainly not a friend. Erik had no friends…not anymore.

"Just make sure you are not late," he warned. "I won't wait again."

"I have no intentions of being late," Amir objected.

"Forgive me if I do not believe you," Erik countered. "For you are always late."

"And you _always_ wait," Amir ended with a laugh, nodding his head as he left Erik standing there, his mouth open in protest, searching for something to say in rebuttal.

* * *

_Bothersome Persian_, Erik muttered to himself as he made his way back down to his underground home. That blasted man was good for only one thing…information. And lately he had been sorely lacking in that department as well. Yet, other than his dutiful assistant, Victor, whom Erik had kept on retainer to deliver his bi-weekly supplies as well as other assignments, Amir was the only person he ever spoke with. And even if their conversations were short and often heated, it was still nice to hear another person's voice occasionally. For at times the catacombs and his underground home could be a bit…_lonely_.

Erik shook such morose thoughts from his mind, skirting along the secret passageway around the lake, expertly avoiding the numerous traps and alarms he had set in place over the years. Privacy was one thing Erik held dear and he would not suffer another stumbling upon his sanctuary uninvited. His mind was so distracted by the things the Daroga had said that he almost missed it. Yet upon second glance there it was.

A dead body.

And not just any dead body…from the attire, it appeared to be the body of a girl.

She had been washed up upon the shore, the lower half of her still submerged in the water, while from her waist up, she was lying face down on the bank.

"Oh, hell," Erik muttered, in no mood to deal with this tonight, especially when all he wanted to do was get back to his music. The Daroga had set him on edge and he needed the soothing sound of his glorious pipe organ to put him back in a better mood. The last thing he had time for was dealing with the disposal of a dead body.

Walking forward he looked down at the drowned woman. Perhaps she was one of the unfortunate passengers on the barge that had exploded? There were many culverts and aqueducts that led from the river and her body could have easily made its way to his lake through one of those. He found himself wondering who she had been. From the modest appearance of the dress she wore, he concluded that she must have been a worker on the boat and not a guest. A serving girl or cook perhaps? No matter, she was dead now and Erik found he was already past caring. Yet he could not allow her to just lie there, for soon she would begin to smell up the tunnels and that would never do. Erik might live underground like vermin, but that certainly did not mean he had to behave like one. Anna had taught him to take pride in his appearance and surroundings, keeping things neat and tidy…and a dead body would most assuredly mess that up.

Reaching into his cloak he took out his gloves and slipped them on, thinking he would have to burn them once he was finished. Yet when he bent down and rolled the girl over, a gasp of shock escaped his lips as he lurched backwards, almost losing his balance and falling on his posterior. The girl was wet, her skin a bluish tint from the icy water and her chestnut colored hair was a veritable mess, but regardless of all that, she was still by far the most beautiful woman Erik had ever laid eyes on.

What a pity that she was now dead.

* * *

**Oh yes, tiz a crying shame the pretty girl is dead. So sad. Oh, well, guess the story ends here. Or does it...ha ha.**

**I am sorry that the tale of where Erik has been for the past 20 years took a while...but it had to be told and better to do it quickly as as a remembrance than dwell on all the horrors he suffered in real time. Now we can get on with his life and see if it can now take a turn for the better. However, finding a dead girl does not seem like very much fun. Hmmm, perhaps he is wrong? Ever think of double checking before you jump to conclusions Erik?**

**How do you all like Amir? A bit older, more of a Parole officer than a friend, but still a lot of fun...the womanizing scoundrel.**

**And awwww, Erik never forgot Anna, and left Suzette's to find her. I weep for his lost paper swan though...but really, do you think he could have hid it from the gypsies forever? So sad.**

**So tell me what you think! Erik may be all grown up, but he still loves reviews!**

**PS...for those of you who found it interesting that Madame Giry had a husband...and his name is Giles...you might wish to keep a look out for a new story heading your way called _"Prelude" by JM Smith _or as we all know her here on the FF site, "bensara91513" - the very same writer who brought you "The Secret Door" and "The Phantom and the Rose". It is still being written at the moment, but keep your eyes peeled...it is GOOD!**


	12. Chapter 12

**You all outdid yourselves with reviews once again...I am beside myself with glee! For your outpouring of responses, I thus intend to reward you in the only way I know now...with another early chapter!**

**Keep those reviews coming and I will do all I can to keep you paid in full.**

**Both Little Erik AND Big Erik say thank you!**

**.**

**Guest Reviews:**

**IRIS:** I am getting your reviews and enjoying them! Keep them coming and I will be answering them in more detail once you catch up with where I am currently posting. Thanks!

**RJ:** i did see your review from MBTM, but since you signed in as a guest, I could not respond. Here I can drop you a note! Thanks for all your kind words and I am glad my story was a good distraction while you were incapacitated. You have a very nice sister to have read Siren of the Sea to you like that. Thanks for reading and I look forward to hearing from you again!

**PanicAtTheDisco:** Ummm, no...sorry. That WAS my Friday post, I just sent it up early to say thank you.

Mystery: First of all...NO, thank YOU for leaving reviews! I love them. Yes, Erik still lived the life that made him the man we know and love today...but with HOPE this time. Sorry it upset you though. Yes, you were right as to who the girl is...and I figured why wait to make them meet...no better time like the present. ha ha. Sorry I made you cry a lot over the paper swan thing...yes, it was sad.

**TheRebbs98:** Yes, destroying Erik's swan was totally uncalled for! Shame on them! Oh yes, I think Anna will flip out of she thinks she lost TWO kids! But how handy that they are together...makes it easier for her to find them that way. And I am glad you caught that Erik still loves to eat rose biscuits. And Christine MIGHT call him her Angel of Music...or he might call her that...or no one calls anyone anything, ha ha.

**Guest:** Shocked you again, did I? yes, that is Christine and yes she will be OK...but no...she will not have amnesia. Everything will come around full circle...eventually...don't worry.

**PhantomChristine:** Technically...just like Raoul...you are RIGHT. ha ha. And your quote made me smile!

**Jobizzle:** Erik would NEVER stoop to working in a greasy spoon diner! ha ha. He has standards! Yah, the loss of the swan was devistating to Erik. Ha ha, yes, the 'cadaver' is our miss Daae, and how she got there will be explained. And I am doing the "FP33 creates a whole new idea of how they met and stuff and nothing is the same" thing. ha ha.

.

**Now. let's go see what we can do about reviving that 'dead' girl...OK?**

.

**Chapter 12**

**Vision of Darkness**

* * *

Erik knelt there a few moments longer, regret seeping into his cold heart as he gazed upon her loveliness. He had been told all his life that he was ugliness itself, still that had never stopped him from appreciating true beauty when he saw it. Be it in the design of a building, the artistry of a piece of music or in the rosy cheeks of an innocent child; yet to Erik, even in death, this girl was perfection itself. How sad to only be graced by such splendor now, when she was beyond the power to hear his praise - for praise her he would have, in both word and song. From a safe distance of course, never daring to speak to her in person, and yet…perhaps for _her_ he might have dared try.

With a final sigh of regret he reached out to lift her lifeless form, intending to carry her to a place where he could respectfully lay her to rest. Yet when he jostled her slightly, something unexpected happened; she released a low and plaintive moan! Erik just about dropped her out of shock, his wide eyes now staring closely at her face and throat. It was barely visible, which was why his discerning eye missed it, but she was indeed still breathing! He could also detect the small beat of her pulse as it weakly announced that she was still among the living. Erik's heart leapt with joy…quickly followed by fear and dread. What was he supposed to do now? It was one thing to dispose of a dead body, it was quite another to care for a _live_ one. Yet Erik knew he could not just leave her here in the caverns to die, he had to get her back to his secluded lair and get her warm and dry as quickly as possible.

Readjusting his hold, he frantically continued his trek towards his secluded home. His front door was masterfully hidden and if any unsuspecting intruder happened to find their way down to the lake, they could easily have mistaken it for simply another part of the stone wall. But Erik knew the secrets of his designs and with a simple press on a certain stone, the barrier swung open, allowing his warm and cozy apartment to welcome him and his half drowned guest inside. When Erik was building his underground house, he installed several rooms that seemed quite unnecessary, yet they were things he had seen in other traditional homes, and Erik saw no reason to deprive himself of anything a _normal_ man would have. One such room was the Louis Philippe suite, specifically designed for guests. Why he had ever imagined he would have a _guest_ inside his home, much less that they might be required to sleep over, Erik had no idea. Yet at the time it had seemed logical to build one, thus it had been designed and properly furnished. This poor unfortunate girl would now be the first ever to grace this useless and frivolous room.

Kicking open the door he quickly entered and laid her down on the thick coverlet, watching as her small body appeared to be swallowed up by the large bed. The lower half of her dress had dripped water the entire way there, leaving one side of Erik soaked to the bone thanks to her soggy garment. He knew wet clothes would soon cause illness and if he wished to preserve her life his first priority would be to get her dry and warm. Unfortunately, that would necessitate that he remove her dress and possibly her undergarments, something Erik was not sure he could do. Another low moan of discomfort from the girl caused Erik to quickly reconsider, knowing that when it came to hypothermia, minutes counted. Her wet clothes needed to be removed and to hell with the embarrassment the act might cause him.

Hurrying to his own room, Erik quickly pulled out one of his most expensive dress shirts, made of the finest Egyptian cotton with a removable collar. Unfastening the unnecessary stiff item and tossing it onto his dresser, he quickly returned to her side and steeled his nerves for what he knew he must do.

The first few layers did not prove too difficult, the ripped and soaked garments tossed to the floor to be disposed of later. Yet when he reached the more intimate apparel he found his hands began to shake slightly and his throat grew uncomfortably dry. He had seen the scantily clad bodies of many women in Persia, from a distance, but somehow this was different…this was…_personal._ Swallowing the lump that was constricting his airway, Erik chose to shut his eyes and rely on the sense of touch to get the remainder of the job done. While this did not prove to be much better, at least with his sight stolen from him he felt less like some immoral degenerate, denying himself the tempting view of what lay before him. It took him some time – whether it was more or less than truly necessary, he refused to even contemplate - but at last she was clothed in his long dress shirt, her body fully covered from neck to knees. When he believed he could open his eyes in relative safety, he did so, one at a time, followed by a sigh of relief. The girl looked much more comfortable, though with her bare legs still exposed he quickly snugged her down under the covers, hiding the remainder of her tempting flesh from his greedy eyes.

Erik quickly removed the now dampened top cover and added one more blanket before heading to the fireplace in the room and lighting the gas flames, opening the valve all the way. Soon he could feel the heat begin to increase in the room and he hoped it would be enough to warm the dangerously chilled girl up. Once again he complimented himself on his foresight to install a fireplace in every bedchamber and have the gas lines piped down to his lair. He really was a genius.

He next began to examine her for other signs of damage she might have sustained in the accident or her subsequent journey to his lake shore. He had noted only a few minor scrapes on her legs, nothing life threatening, so he next took each one of her arms out from under the blankets and pulled up the sleeves to inspect them as well. When he was satisfied that they were also well, he then turned to her captivatingly beautiful face. Now that she was gaining some of that healthy pink tint back in her cheeks, she was even more lovely than before. She had a delicate heart-shaped face and high cheekbones that framed her perfect little nose. Her lips appeared soft and supple, just the right size and shape for bestowing a kiss upon…or so Erik imagined. And though it was still a tangled mess, luscious auburn curls framed her face in such a pleasing fashion that he ached to touch it. Unable to stop himself, Erik reached out and brushed a few stray wisps that had fallen down across her face, and that was when he saw it - a deep gash and growing bruise on her forehead right at the hairline. The sight of such a wound caused Erik to flinch, not from the ugliness of it, but instead because he knew a head injury of this severity could quickly turn deadly if not treated promptly and constantly monitored. Hurrying to his laboratory, one of the rooms that he _did _use quite often, he collected several vials and clean bandages, returning to her side with the intent of treating and dressing the wound.

By the time he was finished, Erik could feel that much of the warmth in her skin had returned, the cozy blankets doing their job nicely. His house was never very cold, due to the gas fireplace that he kept running continuously in his parlor. It was not as if he were paying for the fuel the pipes supplied, and with the thick stone walls for insulation, Erik found that it warmed the rest of the rooms rather sufficiently. Yet as he stood there and stared at the sleeping girl, appearing less and less like a corpse with every passing minute, he became aware that he was still clothed in his own wet attire. He hated to leave her side, yet he knew there was nothing left to do but wait, so a quick trip to his room for a fresh set of clothes would be relatively safe.

On the way back from changing, Erik decided to take a detour to the kitchen where he began to reheat some leftover soup, straining out the chunks of vegetables and meat so that only a hearty broth remained. Once it was a warm, yet safe, temperature he brought the bowl back to the room, setting it down on the nightstand beside the bed. Erik had never fed anyone before, much less someone who was not conscious. Still, if she was going to recover her strength and pull through, he knew he must do something. Gently, he sat her up against a stack of pillows, molding a particularly fluffy one around her head to steady it as he dipped the spoon in for a small taste of the nourishing liquid. At first she did not seem to be alert enough to take the broth, the first spoonful running down her chin before he could catch it with the napkin he had brought.

_Damn_, this was going to be more difficult than he imagined.

The next one fared no better, yet by the third helping the girl's instincts must have kicked in and she indeed swallowed it down. After half a dozen more small spoonfuls, Erik felt she had taken in enough and once more laid her back down inside a cocoon of blankets, her quickly drying hair fanning out on the pillow around her. Erik longed to remove his gloves and allow his naked fingers to run through her tresses to see if they were indeed as soft as he imagined…yet he dared not. She may have washed up on his shore, and he had done all he could to preserve her life, but that hardly gave him the right to take such liberties with an angel. He found himself chuckling, as the words Amir had said earlier came back to him, '_take an interest in humanity, it might in turn take an interest in you'_. Well…here he was doing just that, for right there in the bed before him was the prettiest female he had ever seen.

Erik carefully monitored the girl's condition throughout the night, only leaving her room when there was a true need to do so. He placed a chair in the corner of her room and from there kept a silent vigil until the following morning. He spoon-fed her more broth and gave her a few sips of water whenever she would accept it, yet so far she had not stirred. He worried that her head injury might have been too severe and that she may never awaken, yet he refused to give up hope. It was not until late that evening when he saw the first hint of movement.

Erik had been sitting in the corner chair, reading a book when he heard her stir. This was the moment he had been anticipating as well as dreading, for how would such a lovely thing react when waking to find herself locked in the secluded lair of a masked monster? Yet there was no way around such a revelation. He could not simply hide from her or leave her to her own devices. It had been his choice to bring her within the confines of his private world, now he would have to deal with the repercussions.

Unmoving, Erik watched as her eyelids fluttered open, his breath once more catching in his throat at the first sight of her deep blue eyes. They were such a vibrant shade, so rich and piercing that he could have stared at them forever. It was obvious that she was in pain from the way she cringed and winced as she brought her arms out from under the blankets, running her hand over the coverlet as she assessed her surroundings. Erik had kept the lights low, opting to utilize several candles instead, with the hope that some shadows might obscure her view of him and allow her to adjust to his appearance slowly. The girl sat up tentatively in the bed, once more feeling the blankets she was currently encased in with a look of confusion, yet when her fingers moved to the bandage covering the wound on her forehead, Erik could remain silent no longer.

"It would be best if you did not touch that," he directed, keeping his voice as calm and soothing as he could in hopes of not startling her. It appeared that she had not noticed him before this, yet the moment he spoke, his position was revealed. Apparently alarmed, she gave a small squeak and pulled the covers up to her chin, gripping them tightly as if they were her only form of protection.

"Who is there?" she asked in a hoarse and quaking voice. "Where am I and…and how did I get here?"

"You are in my home, Mademoiselle," Erik informed her. "I found you on the shores of my lake, half drowned and frozen. May I assume that you were one of the passengers onboard the barge that came to disaster the other day?" Erik was quite proud of himself, he had managed to speak and ask a question without stuttering or fumbling for words. Not bad for a man who spoke so seldom to others.

"I…I was," she admitted after a moment of thought, as if she were struggling to recall the events that led to her being there in his home. "Can…can you please light a candle or a lamp…I am unable to see you, Monsieur."

_Damn! _Erik had hoped that staying in the shadows might have been an option, yet the curious little thing wished to see the man to whom she was speaking. _Well, all the worse for her,_ he thought to himself as he stepped forward, reaching out to turn up the gas lamp on the wall, bathing the room in its harsh and unflattering glow. There, the deed was done, she was welcome to commence with her screaming at any time.

Yet no cry of fright came, no gasp of shock or pleas for mercy. Instead she only sat there, staring in his direction as if waiting for something. What more could she want?

"Is this light not sufficient for your inspection of me, Mademoiselle?" Erik asked at last, a bit tersely perhaps, but he hated being put on display in this manner, stared at and left waiting for a reaction.

"I…I see no light, Monsieur," she answered sounding confused by his claim.

Erik looked at her as if she had gone mad. The room was flooded in light, glaringly so in fact. How could it possibly escape her notice? Then it hit him…_she could not see! _Why had he not noticed it before, the way she stared straight ahead, focusing on nothing, feeling the covers and not once _looking_ at them. The girl was blind!

"You mean to say you cannot see the lamp on the wall?" he asked, pointing directly at it. "Or the lit candle next to the bed…or me?"

"I…no…I cannot," she murmured, her blue eyes growing wide as realization began to set in. "I see only darkness…nothing else…nothing at all!" Her tone had now grown to one of panic and her dainty hands stretched out in front of her as she groped around, searching for anything she might be able to identify.

"Mademoiselle, please calm yourself," Erik instructed, taking a few steps closer as he saw her reach towards the nightstand, her fingers coming into contact with the lit candle and knocking it over before he could stop her. "Blast it, woman! Do you intend to burn my home to the ground?" he barked, righting the taper and its holder before snuffing out the flame as a precautionary measure. He frowned when he saw the wax that was now splattered across his expensive furniture. He would have to tend to that later.

"I can't see, Monsieur!" she began to cry hysterically, once more frantically reaching out until she came into contact with his arm, taking him completely by surprise as she latched on with such fervor. "_I can't see!_"

Erik was startled by her touch and out of instinct he jerked backwards, ripping himself from her hold. He immediately regretted his jarring action, as it almost brought the poor girl tumbling out of the bed and onto the floor. Thankfully she righted herself in time, though her now blank eyes were filled with tears, running down her cheeks as she fought to understand what had happened to her ability to see.

"I take it that until today you did indeed have full use of your eyes?" Erik asked, trying to ascertain exactly what the situation was.

"Yes!" she sobbed, snapping back at him in her distress. "What happened…why can't I see anything…why?"

"My best guess would be that the wound to your head has caused you to lose your vision," Erik said after a moment of contemplation. "I have read of such cases, where a blow to the skull has resulted in damage being done to the optic nerves or placing some undue pressure on the area of the brain that interprets the visual senses."

"Are..are you a doctor?" she asked, a measure of hope coming to her voice.

"Of sorts," Erik replied and while it was not completely true, he prided himself on having a working knowledge of the human body – an occupational hazard from years of devising ingenious methods of torture. Besides, it would likely accelerate the process of her trusting him if she thought he was a man of medicine and not just some lunatic who lived in a cave…which he did…thus she would certainly be within her rights to believe such things.

"Then…will I ever see again?" she pleaded, her tears beginning to flow even harder.

"It is far too early to tell," Erik was quick to inform her, though he had to admit that it was a distinct possibility she might not. Doctors and scientists still had much to discover about the inner-workings of the human brain. "This could easily be a temporary condition; there is no way to know until the swelling goes down. You may regain your sight as soon as tomorrow, or it could take weeks, even months…"

"Or…never?" she questioned, blankly staring up at him as if searching for an honest answer.

"Or never," he confirmed with a heavy sigh. It was not his intention to dash her hopes, but neither did he want to outright lie to her, especially about something as serious as this. She had a right to know the truth, even if it caused him a twinge of unexpected pain to deliver it.

This admission caused her to crumble in on herself, pulling her knees up to her chest as she buried her head in her arms, her pitiful sobs leaving her entire body shaking. Erik did not know what to do, so he stood there like a spectator watching a tragic play. This one girl had caused Erik to feel more emotions in the past two days than he had in…well, years! He had felt _pity_ for the girl when he thought she had died,_ hope_ when he found out otherwise and_ concern_ as he had cared for her injuries. He would not even begin to scrutinize the gambit of feelings he had experienced while assisting her out of her clothes, but now he was right back to that hated sentiment of pity…pity over the idea that she had lost the ability to see.

And yet…

"Please…Monsieur…what is…your name?" the girl asked him, her question coming out between sniffles as she did her best to cease her tears. "And…where am I?"

"As I said before, you are in my home," he began, obviously reluctant to answer further, yet knowing it would seem foolish, and a bit alarming, if he did not. "And my…my name is Erik."

"Thank you for saving me… Monsieur Erik," she continued to stammer, lifting her head as she wiped at the tears still coming from her now useless eyes. "My name is…Christine."

Christine…her name was just as lovely as she was and Erik savored the taste of it on his lips. While he was overjoyed that she had offered him a name, he was keenly aware that she did not provide a last name to go along with it. Then again…neither had he.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselle Christine," he answered back, offering a slight bow at the waist, even if she was unable to see it performed. "I wish to assure you that you are in no danger, no threat of peril. I would have taken you directly to a hospital, but…I live a fair distance from the city and I thought it best that I get you out of the elements as quickly as possible. Besides, I would suspect that the medical facilities would be quite overrun with caring for the others who were injured when your barge exploded. You are very fortunate to be alive, for I am told several others did not survive and you, my dear, traveled a great distance while being carried by the river." An idea suddenly struck Erik, and he asked his next question with a touch of urgency. "Was there anyone _with_ you during the accident? Someone you would like for me to contact perhaps?" For though he had been calling her _mademoiselle_, she had never actually confirmed her single status. It brought a sickening pain to his chest at the thought she might be spoken for. NOT that Erik believed he ever stood a chance in wooing her….and yet….

"No…there is no one," she answered with a shake of her head. "I mean, I was not there with anyone in particular. I was working…as…as….I was hired to be there," she finished, oddly unwilling to reveal her purpose on the boat. Yet it did not matter to Erik, he was simply glad to hear that she was unattached, or at least had been while on board. "How long have I been here?"

"I found you yesterday evening and the sun is just now setting again, you have been sleeping for almost twenty-four hours," Erik reported pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. Day and night meant very little to him, yet he was meticulous about keeping track of the passage of time, never wishing to miss a performance or his weekly meeting with that petulant Persian. "I think it would do you good to eat something in order to build up your strength," he suggested, wanting to be assigned some specific task so that he might regain a sense of purpose. This flailing around emotionally was not good for his nerves.

"I am not hungry," she told him quietly, looking away as she spoke. "May I please just be left alone?"

At first he intended to argue with her, insisting that she do as he directed and yet the look on her face gave him pause.

"Of course," Erik nodded. When faced with life altering circumstances, Erik had often found being by oneself in order to collect your thoughts was best. Yet then again…he had always been alone. That could now be the reason he was reluctant to leave, thus robbing him of his new and delightful distraction, but he was not about to deny her request. "I will be just outside the room, you only need to call out and I will hear you." He headed for the door but was stopped by her sudden but meek response.

"Monsieur…Erik," she almost whispered plaintively. "May I…I mean…I…" she stopped there and took a shaky breath before continuing, her face turning red at her next words. "I need to…to use the facilities."

Erik stood there and stared at her. She needed what? Oh, his ears heard the request, yet his mind was having difficulty processing the implications. Did she expect_ him_ to take her? Would she require further assistance beyond directions to the location? _God, he hoped not!_

"Monsieur?" Christine prompted, her head turning slightly as she tried to ascertain if he had already left the room.

"Y-y-yes…of course," he choked out, clearing his throat several times as he willed his paralyzed legs to take the necessary steps towards her. "I suppose…that is to be expected after being asleep for almost a day," he continued, hoping if he kept talking he would not have time to think about what needed to be done. "It is this way." He was now standing beside the bed and as she reached out her hand, Erik knew he needed to take hold of it to help her from the bed, guiding her to her destination. He gave a quiet word of thanks that he had seen fit to put on another pair of gloves, afraid that touching her skin could easily be his undoing. In all his adult life he had never been this close to a woman before, never spoken half the words he had already exchanged with Christine, and now he was required to touch her once more? _Oh, the sweet torture! _

Taking hold of his hand she hesitantly swiveled in the bed and brought her feet over the side, taking her time as she gingerly stood. He could tell the effort was painful, her body and muscles having taken a beating in getting her to where he had found her, yet she appeared to be a determined little thing.

"If you have need, I could carry you?" he heard himself say, making his heart lurch - not only by the fact he had just offered, but at the remembrance of how it had felt the last time he had held her so close to him. Before he had been distracted by the idea that she was in great peril….however, this time he would have both time and opportunity to savor the action.

"No…I can do it," she insisted, taking a step forward as she hissed through her teeth in pain. "I just need you to guide me to the…." Her words suddenly cut off as she froze in place, the hand that was not gripping his arm immediately reaching down towards the hem of his shirt. "Monsieur! Where are my clothes?" she cried out in alarm.

At first Erik did not know how to respond, for every possible answer painted him in an unpleasant light. And while he was no stranger to people thinking ill of him, for some reason it caused him a measure of grief to think that she might see him that way as well.

"I am afraid that your dress and…_things_…were not only soaking wet but torn and shredded beyond repair. I was forced to dispose of them," he confessed. "The only thing I had to offer in their place was one of my dress shirts…it is rather large on you and I assure you that you are quite modestly covered."

"You…you undressed me?" This time her voice came out in a squeak as her hand flew to her lips, her eyes growing even wider in mortification. "Not your maid…or your housekeeper?"

"I have neither," Erik explained. "I am a bachelor with no servants and like I said, my home is a fair distance from anyone, so I alone was charged with the task of either removing your wet garments or allowing you to freeze in them and die. I chose the former." When she still did not seem placated, he quickly added, "I promise on my honor as a gentleman, that I kept my eyes closed the entire time." Erik almost snorted at the humor of his pledge, oh, if only she knew what kind of _gentleman_ he was…exactly what kind of murderous fiend she was currently holding onto for support. The notion was both comical and horrifying.

"Please forgive me, Monsieur…you are correct, you had no choice," she finally nodded, the blush never leaving her cheeks. "I appreciate what you did for me…I am very beholden to you."

"Thank you for understanding," he nodded, grateful that she had accepted his reasoning so quickly. Yet, he still had to see her to the lavatory and after that he most assuredly needed a drink! "This way," he mumbled, prompting her to continue her careful pace towards the adjoining bathroom. Once there, he assisted her inside, describing the room's layout in great detail. He left out the fact that there was a second door that led to his own chambers, since this was a communal room shared by the two. However, while she was his guest, he would instead make use of the smaller water closet off his music room. It did not have a large claw-foot tub that fit him to a tee, but he would have to make do. Once he felt she knew where everything was, he left her alone and exited the room, shutting the door firmly behind him so there would be no doubt in her mind that she was alone.

While he waited for her to complete her business, he paced the room anxiously, running his fingers through his hair as he took several deep breaths. How was he to cope with this? What was he to do with a guest in his house…a blind female guest at that? This was not something he had ever anticipated happening and he began to wonder if he had made a horrible mistake in choosing to rescue some stranger from certain death. He had already been the cause of so many in his lifetime…what would one more be in the grand scheme of things? Yet the moment he heard the door open and he watched her step into the room with her delicate hand outstretched, desperately searching for his assistance, Erik knew leaving her to the cruel hand of fate had never been an option.

When he had safely tucked Christine back in bed, her head lying against the pillows with a sorrowful look upon her face, he politely excused himself, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Once outside her room he leaned against the door, tipping his head back as he closed his eyes. He had no idea what he was doing. _None!_ He was over thirty years old, but when it came to women he had all the knowledge and experience of a five year old boy. Yet within that room lay a helpless girl who was in desperate need of care and reassurance, and even though he was properly schooled in neither one of those areas…he would do the very best he could for her.

But first…Erik needed a very large and very stiff drink!

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**Careful Erik...don't get snockered! You have a LIVE girl to take care of now!**

**Soooo, did anyone SEE that coming? (yes, pun intended)**

**With this pretty Christine all blind, that kind of makes her the PERFECT girl for Erik...no?**

**Poor thing though, all scared and crying. I hope Erik can handle it...he is rather emotionally stunted, after all. ha ha.**

**Tune in next to see what happens in the new love nest. ha ha.**

**And remember...the more reviews...the faster I post!**


	13. Chapter 13

**We are back on our Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule!**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**TheRebbs98:** Yes, Erik IS awkward around girls...especially the pretty blind kind. ha ha. Erik is a bit distracted and slow on the up-take, so it might be a bit before he puts two and two together. ha ha. And of course they will end up together...this is an E/C story after all. Don't hate the Raoul...he is just misunderstood. ha ha.

**QuillSpirit:** I am glad I have you hooked! Shall I reel you in? And what she was doing on the boat will be answered in this chapter, so read on!

**Mystery:** I think Erik blushed more...because HE had to do the undressing! Yes, there will be questions...I hope Erik has answers! Funny you should mention that biological stuff...THAT will be dealt with, ha ha. More on if her mom is worried in the next few chapters. I hope my updating was at Erik Efficiency speed!

**Guessst:** YEP!

**syrianlight:** Yes, I would prefer those past things never happen to him either...but they are in the past now and we can forget all about them...OK? And you have a great idea there for the reunion thing...you will just have to wait and see if mine is anything like that. ha ha. Christine is a bit traumatized, lets just hope Erik can help her out. Yep, Erik is very much out of his comfort zone...if he EVER had one to begin with. ha ha. I like your "go Erik" flag!

**BrittaKnee226:** The fact that you don't review often makes this one all the sweeter! And thank you for ALL your kind words...I do try! And you will just have to keep reading if you want to see how and when Erik figures it all out and is reunited with Anna.

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**All right...now let's go see how Erik is handling all this...**

**or more importantly, how is Christine dealing with the loss of her sight?**

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**Chapter 13**

**Acceptance**

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That night Erik's one drink turned into two, then three as he tried to ignore the quiet weeping of the girl in the Louis Philippe room. He understood that she had every right to cry, for her life had been completely torn asunder, her vision and perception of the world cruelly ripped away. And even if it eventually proved to be a temporary thing, brought on by her head injury, it was still a devastating blow.

Yet Erik was not used to dealing with emotional women…in fact he was not used to dealing with anyone at all! He had been alone most of his life and even when he was thrust into a sea of people, it was usually not by his choosing and all he had wished to do was flee. Here in his underground home he had thought himself safe from such things; his own little sanctuary where he could reside in comfort and safety - but no more. In the other room he now housed a girl…and not just_ any_ girl; one of extraordinary beauty who lacked the ability to see his face, thus sparing him from the humiliation of once again being judged by his hideous looks. Of all the women in the world, at that very moment, she was as close to perfection as Erik had ever come, for she was both beautiful and blind.

_Blind!_

Oh, how Erik hated himself for feeling a measure of joy and excitement over her tragic loss, but that small voice inside his mind would not keep silent. It tempted and taunted him, urging him to let his baser side out, to revel in this gift that had landed on his doorstep. Erik had worked hard to convince himself that he did not need, or want, a companion in his life. That he did not crave the company of a woman or the delicate pleasures the fairer sex had to offer. It was easier to claim you did not _want_ something when you thought there was never a chance it would be _offered_ to you. And he might have even believed his own lies if it were not for the hope that Anna had nurtured within him – the hope that he _could_ be loved. He wanted it too, no matter how much he railed against it, a wife to love…just like everyone else. A woman of his own to share gentle kisses, to take for walks on Sundays and to sleep beside him every night…he desired those things very much.

This was the reason Amir's words had made Erik so angry, for they hit far too close to home. He could not count the times he had been tempted to seek out the darker side of town, to lay down the necessary francs to procure a night in the arms of a pliant woman, even if she was only doing it because he paid her. But he wanted more! Always knowing that having a woman that way would be meaningless and leave him feeling hollow. This however did not stop Erik from wanting…no, he burned just like any ordinary man, yet always denied himself fulfillment. He had suffered much in his lifetime, been treated cruelly from the day he was born, so didn't he deserve some reward in compensation? Why shouldn't he keep the girl? What was stopping him?

Certainly nothing in the way of morals, for he long ago abandoned those - and with the situation being as it was…no one would be searching for her either. She had admitted to being alone, saying there was no one for him to contact who might be concerned over her absence. And because of the accident she had been involved in, it was more than likely everyone assumed she was already dead. Christine could be his - a gift from the gods to make up for all he had been denied. All he had to do was hide her away and she could remain his to care for, to speak with and to protect.

Yet…he could not.

NO! He _would_ not!

For once again, the gentle words of Anna sprang to his mind, urging him to _be good_…to be _a gentleman_. Something he had never quite mastered, yet always strived for… if only to please his former nanny. Sometimes her memory was a comfort…and other times, like now, it was a damn nuisance. Much like that foolish Persian who insisted that Erik was a better man than he believed himself to be. Why was he cursed to bear the burden of others' expectations? Why could he not just ignore everything but his own desires…those of peace, tranquility, solitude….and now _her!_

With a low curse, he reached for the bottle and poured himself a fourth glass full of the guilt numbing liquid. It was going to be a long night.

That long night turned into longer days as Erik continued to care for Christine as best he could. Unfortunately _she _was not making it easy on him. First, she hardly spoke, giving only one word responses to any question he posed, always polite, concise and completely devoid of any emotion but sorrow. Erik had never been one for conversation, yet even he began to become irritated at her lack of speech. He tried to get her to speak of her home, her family, of anything that might allow him some insight into the mysteries of her life, yet she would simply wave him off or claim she was too tired to talk. Erik found it odd that she did not request to leave or be taken to a hospital where she might be cared for in a more typical fashion. She only thanked him politely for allowing her to stay where she was and apologized for being an inconvenience. He tried to assure her that she was no such thing, yet if he was being honest…_she most assuredly was!_

Christine cried most of the time, so much in fact that Erik wondered if the girl would eventually dry up and blow away. Her constant sobs had often driven him to the furthest rooms of his home just to find a moment of peace from the sound of her heartbreaking tears. He had hoped that when she slept he would be free from such annoyances, but even then she disrupted his life with her nightmares. The first few times she had cried out he had dropped everything and raced to her room, fully expecting to find her being murdered with the way she was hysterically screaming. Yet each time it was only the memory of the accident and the feeling that she was drowning that had caused such a ruckus. Erik did not begrudge her this fear, for even he saw drowning as one of the least pleasant ways to go. Being completely submerged in a substance that neither gave you the ability to breathe or steady yourself in any way. Then having what little air you still possessed become like a fire in your lungs until it must be expelled only to be replaced by the suffocating effects of water. No…Erik did _not_ blame the girl at all for her nightmares.

By the third night he had learned two things, one being to leave a candle burning in her room at all times. When he asked her to explain her odd request she only shrugged and told him it gave her comfort to know that there _was _light…even if she could not see it. She claimed that she could smell the candle as it burned and melted, as well as hear the flickering of the flame, thus assuring her that it was there.

The second thing was that he found it best to station himself just inside the room, sitting silently as she fell asleep. He was a master at stealth and he could easily remain there for hours, whether she was asleep or awake, without her knowledge. The nightmares usually came within the first half an hour of her slumber, when she would become restless and begin to thrash about. When he would notice the tell-tale signs, he would rise from his chair and stand by her bed, speaking softly or sometimes even daring to sing very softly to her – using what his mother had called his _devil's voice_ – the same one he had apparently inherited from his father. Yet from the devil or not, it seemed to ease her distress and after a few minutes she would be back to sleeping peacefully, allowing Erik to slip away undetected and tend to his own matters.

Christine had become more sure of her footing, no longer requiring him to escort her to the lavatory when the need arose. She would still shuffle along, the sound of her feet tentatively crossing the floor always alerting him to her expeditions, her small arms outstretched before her as she felt her way along the wall to her destination. He had offered to draw a bath for her many times, hoping that the opportunity to wash her hair and body might snap her out of this melancholy, yet the idea of being placed in water again had the opposite effect and almost caused her to suffer a panic attack. He quit offering after that.

Thankfully she did appear to see the need for some hygiene and he saw that she would frequently make use of the washcloth and soap he had laid out for her, so as not to become offensive. He had offered her a brush and comb, but instead she had confined her tempting curls into one large braid down her back, stealing the sight of them from his ravenous eyes. Erik had made a quick journey upstairs and pilfered a dress from the prop room and a few nightgowns from the ballet rats' dormitory. He chuckled to himself as he imagined the shocked expressions on their faces when the girls discovered some of their clothing had gone missing. The Opera Ghost would most likely be blamed but he certainly hoped they did not assign any distasteful or ridiculous reason for the theft. He had a reputation to uphold after all.

She had accepted the gift of the nightdresses, exchanging the shirt she had been wearing for the longer, more fitted garments. However, she seemed to show no interest in the dress he had laid out, informing her several times of its whereabouts at the foot of her bed. The frilly garment began to taunt him as he watched it lie there untouched over the next few days. Didn't women enjoy pretty things? Why did she not wish to put it on? Erik soon realized the idea of seeing her in such a thing was something he craved, the ruffles and lace framing her delicate shape in a way that would be both pleasing to the eye as well as the mind. For what good was it to fantasize about undressing a girl when she refused to put anything on? The whole idea both irritated Erik, as well as stimulated him.

Such thoughts had prompted him to make a few additions to the bi-weekly delivery of goods that was purchased and dropped off at a specific location by Victor Batton. Over the years Erik had kept the young man both busy and well paid for being his personal assistant. Erik detested going out and if he could find a way to avoid it, by hiring someone to do it for him, all the better. Victor had been the perfect choice, having suddenly become unemployed the moment the opera house was finished, and jumped at the chance for steady work as well as the ridiculously high salary Erik offered. Yet good help was hard to come by and Erik knew he could certainly not depend on Amir to bring him such necessities, especially since the man's reliability was already in question over his insufferable tardiness. Victor would assuredly raise an eyebrow over the items he was required to purchase _this_ time, but Erik did not care. The boy feared displeasing his employer, and rightly so, thus insuring that a few new dresses and ladies' undergarments would be delivered just as directed.

However, what seemed to frustrate Erik the most was his guest's complete lack of interest in food, drink and her health. Three times a day he would bring in a tray laden with delicious treats and three times a day he would carry them out again with hardly a bite taken. She was not eating enough to keep a small bird alive and yet he could not tempt her with anything. Erik had never put much stock in eating either, but even he knew that a body required _some_ nourishment if they wished to keep living. He was also going through his store of foodstuffs much quicker with all the cooking he was doing, only for it to go to waste as she turned away his offerings. He could tell she was suffering because of it too, her skin was taking on a sallow look, her hair was becoming dull and the dark circles under her eyes were beginning to alarm him. If he did not find a way to make her care about her health soon, all his efforts to save her would have been for naught.

By the sixth day Erik's patience had reached the breaking point. He brought in her morning meal as usual, giving the offending dress at the end of the bed a withering glare as he passed. Christine was lying in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling as she absently fiddled with her fingers. Erik stood at the bedside for a few moments before clearing his throat, alerting the near comatose woman to his presence. She gave a slight start, as she always did, but then turned her head away, not even gracing him with the pleasure of seeing her beautiful, vacant, blue eyes.

"I have brought you some soup," he informed her, trying to sound enthusiastic about the idea.

"Just set it on the nightstand," came her usual reply, making Erik's blood begin to boil. It was not wise to anger the Opera Ghost, and even if it was unintentionally done, his temper saw no difference.

"No!" he shouted, making the poor girl cringe at the sound of his harsh voice. "I will not _just set it on the nightstand_! I have made you a bowl of soup and by God you will eat it even if I have to feed it to you myself!" Erik then leaned over and placed the bed tray on her lap, forcing her to deal with the food in front of her. "If you do not eat, you will die, is that what you want?"

What happened next came as a shock to Erik, as the girl's face became red with anger and she grabbed hold of the tray on her lap, throwing it at the wall on the other side of the bed.

"YES!" she screamed back at him, the sound of the clattering dishes and breaking glass mingling with her voice. "Yes, damn you! I want to die! I want to lie here and waste away until there is nothing more of me and this terrifying darkness no longer matters! I would have ended things long before now if I only had the ability to locate something I thought might allow me to slit my wrists or to poison myself with. But no, instead you have left me no options other than to endure the slow process of starvation!" She then turned away from him and curled up into a ball and began to sob uncontrollably.

Erik was shocked. Was she in earnest? Could someone who potentially had so much to live for truly wish to take her own life? Erik thought back to all the times he himself had contemplated such a sin; during the nightmare in Persia, his lonely years of traveling, his time spent in the gypsy camp …and most vivid, the day Anna had been forced out of his life. All _those_ were viable reasons to wish to die, not the idea that you had possibly lost one of your senses. Granted it was probably the most important of all, but still, she had her hearing and touch to fall back upon, her smell and taste as well. And even living underground Erik had heard of many new advances for the blind, such as a system of reading and writing, by means of raised dots on paper set in specific patterns. Yet instead of rising to the challenge, this girl wanted to give up? How cowardly of her!

"So, you wish to die, do you?" Erik growled, feeling not even a hint of remorse over his increasingly menacing tone. "You have decided that your pitiful existence is not worth the effort to remain alive and attempt to adjust to your present circumstances? Never thinking that perhaps somewhere, out in the world, there might be at least_ one_ person who would weep at your passing? That is both cowardly and selfish! Well, fine…far be it from me to stop you then. I will gladly cease bringing you meal after meal that I prepared with my own two hands. I will halt all attempts to get you to bathe, brush or groom yourself properly. And if you do not wish to put on the pretty gown I procured for you, then you can rot in that nightdress for all I care!" Erik could see that he was terrifying the girl, for though her sobs had quieted, her body was shaking violently at the tirade being directed at her. "I should have left you on the bank where I found you, it would have certainly saved me a lot of time and trouble! But go ahead, waste away and die now, I will simply tie a brick around your leg and toss you back into the lake, allowing the waters to claim you as they should have done in the first place. Just don't expect me to mourn over your pitiful corpse, you ungrateful little brat!" With that, Erik stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with such fervor that one of the paintings on the wall came loose and crashed to the floor.

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Christine lay on the bed in stunned silence over what the man had just said. He had called her an ungrateful, selfish coward…and a brat! And as she huddled there under the covers, her stomach growling in protest of its denial of food, she realized…_he was right!_ Oh, God, she _was_ a coward! Too afraid to see past her own misery and think of those whom she would be hurting by simply giving up. Her parents, her friends and now…now this man who had done so much for her only to have it all flung back in his face by her ungrateful refusal of his help. Now Christine felt even more miserable than she had before.

Sitting up she wiped her fingers over her damp cheeks, sniffling back any further tears that threatened to fall in a final attempt to be strong. But could she be…strong? She used to think she was, yet that was back in Sweden, where she felt safe and protected. Not like here in Paris where everyone seemed to want something from you and offered nothing in return. She had grown up hearing stories of how her mother had sung on stage, entrancing the audiences with her golden voice, yet when Christine arrived, it was nothing like she had expected. Apartments were outrageously expensive, employment was scarce and she felt like she didn't have a friend in the world.

The talent scout who had offered her a chance to sing at the Opera Garnier had never mentioned that she would be required to audition a second time for the managers, or that she would have to provide for herself until the actual competition. The small amount of money she had brought with her quickly ran out and she had yet to be notified when her second audition was scheduled, leaving her broke and desperate. The job of entertaining the guests on the barge had been her first opportunity in weeks to sing, and she had thought her fortune had finally changed for the better…that is until it all went up in flames, _quite literally._ Now she was not only alone and destitute, she was_ blind_ as well.

Once more her useless eyes began to pool with tears, but this time Christine steadfastly refused to let them fall. She had cried enough! It was time for her to remember who she was, and that the daughter of Charles and Anna Daae was better than this! She had to show the world what she was made of, that she was capable of overcoming such adversity…even if she herself did not fully believe it at the moment. She felt a wave of shame come over her as she thought of what she had almost done. How would her parents have reacted if they knew she had just given up, allowing herself to die when they had worked so hard to raise and protect her since birth? She had not given any thought to them or anyone else…only herself and the endless darkness that was constantly pressing in on her. She was afraid, so very afraid, yet that was no reason to despair.

However, with her eyesight gone, so were her dreams of following in her mother's footsteps and becoming an opera star. All those years of singing lessons from her mother, her diligent studies of French and Italian, as well as countless piano lessons so that she could be her own accompanist. Every bit of it wasted, for how could a Diva perform on stage when she could not see? How could she be expected to hit her mark or handle the props when she had no idea where they were? Training her voice had been her only focus since she was old enough to toddle to the piano and babble out a series of notes that no one understood. Her parents told her she began singing before she could talk and with both of them being so musically inclined, she had learned well. Now what did she have? A voice with no way to use it…no hope of ever gaining a place on the magnificent stage of the Paris Opera House. It was all over.

Not that it had truly ever begun, for an audition and a chance was no guarantee that she would have been chosen. When the scout had come to her small town, Christine had been one of dozens of girls who had sung for the man, yet out of them all, he had picked only her to bestow the chance upon. _Her…_Christine Daae! Her parents had been both proud and anxious. Elated for their daughter, yet reluctant to allow her to travel to Paris on her own. Oh, how she had begged them to let her go, swearing over and over again how careful she would be, how they could trust her to make wise choices and stand on her own. Granted she was a grown woman, turning twenty-one that very winter, but in the eyes of her mother and father, she was still their precious baby girl. She had been told many times about how her parents never thought they could have children, and that finding out that she was on the way was nothing short of a miracle.

It was this fact that had caused her to grow up under their constant watch, never being allowed out of their sight for very long. Often Christine had wondered if it was more than that, more than just the worries of an overprotective set of parents, for often when her mother looked at her, she could see a distant pain in her eyes…the pain of loss. Yet when she would ask her about it, Anna Daae would simply smile, kiss her cheek and tell her it was nothing. Her mother hardly ever spoke of her past, just bits and pieces of her time singing at the Salle Le Peletier or how she and her father had met and fell in love. But there were gaping holes in her mother's history and only through innocent snooping and overhearing conversations that had not been meant for her ears has she learned that the woman who birthed her had been married once before. Christine never discovered to whom, or what her mother had done in those years before meeting her father, but she knew something very tragic had occurred…something she never wished to speak of. So, keeping her insatiable curiosity in check, Christine did not pry further and allowed her mother to keep such painful secrets to herself.

Part of her could understand her parent's protective feelings, yet the free spirit in Christine had always felt stifled by their hovering nature…she felt caged. Of course they had relented a bit as she approached maturity, even going so far as to allow her to take an interest in a few of the handsome and kind-spirited men of the village, perhaps hoping she might take a shine to one of them and settle down only miles from them. But none managed to turn her head for long and Christine had bigger dreams than to settle down in a small town and raise a family…at least not right away. Sure she dreamed of being a mother and having little ones of her own, but she wanted to soar first, she wished to see the sights and taste the glory that had once been her mother's and find out if she was meant for such a life. Yet now…that dream was dead.

That was why she had been reluctant to tell Monsieur Erik the reason she had been on that barge, for if her singing career was truly over…why even bring it up? At first her idea was to say nothing about herself, for if she was only planning to die, why bother getting to know him or allowing him to get to know her. She had felt guilty as she shut him out every time he wished to converse with her, but she was far too depressed to muster up the ambition to speak. With the darkness all around her, Christine only wished to cry and sleep, while eating and talking held no importance.

Yet now the only thing she felt was guilt… not only directed towards her parents and their assured disappointment in her, but over Monsieur Erik as well. He had been so kind, so attentive and had done more for her than any man might have in the same circumstances. She had imposed upon him quite flagrantly, accepting his hospitality, his food – be it very little- and his time. What he must think of her now! She needed to apologize, to beg his forgiveness over her disrespectful and selfish behavior…and it could not wait a moment more!

Throwing back the covers, Christine eased out of bed, careful to avoid the side that she could only imagine was littered with broken dishes and soup debris. A new wave of shame washed over her as she thought of that poor man now being forced to clean up after her…again! For the first time since her arrival she took a moment to think of him and not just how she had treated him, but how he had treated her. At first she was afraid, learning that she was staying in his home with no other servants around was a bit unsettling. Yet as she had fallen deeper and deeper into her melancholy state, it had not seemed to matter. Still, he had never once acted in any way immodest towards her, never hinted at any wickedness or took undue liberties. And if Christine was to think about it, he had more than enough opportunities to show his true colors while she lay there, blind and helpless, completely at his mercy. She shuddered to think of what could have become of her, had she fallen into the hands of an unscrupulous villain instead. Perhaps God had not completely abandoned her after all, for even if she no longer had the ability to see, she had at least retained her virtue.

Or at least she _assumed_ she was still pure, for who was to say what took place while she had been unconscious and he had divested her of her waterlogged clothing. She had also seen a man at a fair once who had hypnotized a person with his voice, making them do things they would not normally do, such as cluck like a chicken, and have no remembrance of it later. Christine had to admit that Monsieur Erik had a very captivating voice, one that had been a struggle and temptation not to answer when he had asked questions, yet she had been far too miserable to respond in kind.

_No!_ Christine scolded herself. It was very wrong of her to ascribe such vile actions to the man who, to the best of her knowledge, had been nothing but the epitome of kindness. He had tended to her wounds, procured her clothing to wear and even escorted her to the lavatory - though she knew it had embarrassed him deeply to do so. He had been her veritable knight in shining armor, yet this thankless princess had treated him like a toad for his chivalrous acts. Well no more! She would make amends and beg his forgiveness, only praying he would take her at her word and understand it had not been done maliciously. Christine was still deeply distraught over her situation – knowing that being robbed of her sight, her livelihood and her dreams all in one swift stroke would not be easily overcome. Yet neither could she sit around and wallow in self-pity…well, at least not all the time.

Once she had made her way to the end of the bed, she began to feel around for the dress Monsieur Erik had repeatedly told her was there. When her fingers came into contact with it she smiled at the textures she felt. Satin and lace…the man had good taste. She quickly shed her nightdress and slipped the decadent feeling gown over her head, for even if she was certain she was alone in the room, it unnerved her to be completely naked when unable to see for sure. Until now she had not seen the need for undergarments, being in nightclothes all the time and in the process of attempting suicide, but suddenly she became keenly aware of their absence. The dress was probably designed to be worn with a corset and other bindings, yet with none to be had, she would have to go without.

As she did her best to fasten the front, each button giving her a mountain of trouble, she thought about her mysterious savior again. How old was he? From the sound of his voice and the way he spoke she could imagine him being much older than her, more worldly and dignified. Yet a voice could not convey age and she had no other means of identifying such an intangible thing. Every time she had touched his hand she had felt only the soft fabric of gloves revealing nothing to her in the way of wrinkles or smooth young skin. He could literally be anywhere between eighteen and eighty, though in her mind she chose to _see_ him as somewhere in-between. And even if she was still woefully unprepared for what she intended to say, Christine knew she needed to seek him out immediately and deliver her heartfelt apology for being the cowardly brat he had deemed her.

.

.

Erik sat on the edge of his favorite chair, his head lowered and his masked face resting in his open palms as he lamented his harsh words to the poor girl. He was mortified by what he had said. Here she was, alone, afraid and rightly despondent over her sudden blindness and he had screamed rebukes at her and threatened to toss her dead body into the lake…returning her to the same watery grave that plagued her dreams so mercilessly. How could he have been so cruel?

He gave a short laugh. How indeed?

Was cruelty second nature to him now? His own mother and the illustrious Shah of Persia would be quite proud of his actions. He could never undo the things he had done, never atone for the crimes against humanity he had caused, but at least until the arrival of this unsuspecting girl, he had found a way to deal with it. To simply _not feel anything at all_, be it remorse, guilt or even joy. Yet every moment he spent in Christine's presence had caused those buried emotions to surface and cruelly taunt him. For a moment he had thought perhaps she was his chance to do something good for a change, to help tip the scales back in his favor a bit by saving her life. However, what he had just said in there negated all that. He was truly an animal, a beast that needed to be caged, to be muzzled and kept under lock and key.

The idea of being jailed suddenly reminded him of Amir and the fact that it had already been six days since he had met with the man. He had best not forget their weekly appointment tomorrow, for girl or no girl, the Daroga would not take kindly to being ignored. How would Erik explain all of _this_ to the Persian police officer if he ever found out? Would Amir believe him if he swore he had only meant to help the girl, that her death had been of her own choosing and not his? He could only imagine the look on the Daroga's face as he explained how instead of taking her to a hospital for proper medical attention, he had kept her sequestered down in his cave with him, selfishly not wishing to part with such a pretty new toy. Amir would never believe for a moment that Erik was not at fault here…and truth be told, neither would he.

Erik was so deeply lost in his depressing thoughts that he failed to hear Christine enter the room until he heard her call out softly.

"Monsieur Erik?" her quiet angel's voice spoke. "Please, sir…are you there?"

Erik was immediately on his feet, staring at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. She was up…she was out of her room…_and she was dressed!_ And while Erik was quick to note that she had missed a button in her attempts to clothe herself, causing a bit of a pucker at her waist and the collar to be slightly askew, she looked breathtaking in the gown he had chosen.

"I…I am here, Mademoiselle," he assured her, watching her eyes soften at the sound of his voice. "I did not expect you to come out…I would have offered my guidance if I had known of your desire to…" he began to stammer, but she cut him off.

"Please, Monsieur, I must speak," she told him, holding up her hand in a plea for silence. "I need to tell you how terribly wrong I was and how much I regret my actions over the past week." Christine lowered her head, wringing her hands together in anxiety at her waist. "I was frightened and foolish and I now see how very selfish I was being. Though I still have no idea what is to become of me…I no longer wish to end my life and I beg your forgiveness for ever burdening you with such a sinful action. I am truly sorry."

Once more Erik's mouth fell open as his heart swelled with joy at her words. She wanted to live! Perhaps his efforts had not been wasted after all and he would no longer be forced to admit his negligence to that pesky Persian!

"I am very pleased to hear of your change of heart, Mademoiselle," Erik said when he felt his voice would come out steady. "However, I will only accept your apology if you in turn accept mine. I should not have shouted at you like I did…it was very wrong of me."

"Yet, truer words were never spoken and it was what I needed to hear," she insisted, taking a tentative step closer. "I was so wrapped up in my own self-pity that I did not take your feelings into consideration and that is inexcusable. Especially after all you have so kindly done for me. I do not know how I am ever going to repay you."

"You can start by having some dinner," he offered quickly, worried that the slight tremor he noticed in her body was brought on by hunger. "I have prepared a large pot of stew and would be so very grateful if you partook of some…please?"

Christine's hand covered her stomach, once more hearing it rumble at the mention of food. She had been a complete idiot and did not deserve this man's forgiveness…and yet he offered it freely in a voice that tempted her ears like no other. How could she possibly say no?

"I would be delighted to take a meal with you, Monsieur," she announced with a smile.

Erik's silent gasp caught in his throat as he saw her face light up, gracing his dark abode for the very first time with such a bewitching sight. A smile meant warmth, comfort and even… dare he dream…acceptance? And Christine had given one to him: Erik the killer of hundreds, the terror of Persia…and still she had smiled at him!

"This way, then," he offered, once more taking the hand she held out to him in his gloved one, steering her towards the kitchen. "And if it pleases you, I would much prefer that you call me simply Erik."

"Very well, Erik," she nodded, her unsure feet shuffling along beside him. "I will do as you wish, if you in turn call me Christine."

"I would be most happy to," he assured her, his own smile growing just as wide as hers.

* * *

**Well, it looks like they are off to a good start now!**

**Sorry about the whole Christine depression thing...but I did not want her to be some Mary Sue who was like "Oh, Gee, I am blind...oh well, I will just sing a happy tune, make the best of it and all will be roses and sunshine." Nope, she is going to act like any normal human would...maybe to the extreme, but she will be sad and have trouble adjusting. I know a great deal of people these days suffer from depression and I do NOT intend to make light of it, but I think I would be insulting many by making it out as if losing ones sight would not trouble someone a great deal...I know it would me! But with Erik's help I think she will rally. ha ha.**

**So...how did you like Erik's "pep talk" ha ha. Well...it worked!**

**Did you get a laugh out of the fact that Erik wanted her to get dressed so he could fantasize about UNdressing her? ha ha. Silly boy.**

**And now you know a bit more about her past and what is going on with her parents (who are safe and sound back in Sweden right now, so no worries, they are safe and have no idea their daughter met with any accident...yet.)**


	14. Chapter 14

**First of all...please be patient for Erik to figure out who Christine's mother is, as well as for their inevitable reunion. I would like to take some time to develop Erik and Christine's relationship first. To let him learn to love her for HER, and not because of who her mom is or that she can sing like an angel. I want a nice, firm foundation for their love. The rest will be the icing on the cake.**

**It will all come in time, I promise, just...wait for it...**

**.**

**Guest Reviews:**

**(remember, Guests, if you get an account I can answer you personally!)**

**EC4ever: **THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS...you have done a great job of catching up!

**Mystery:** Ha ha, nice to know you value my story over sleep. ha ha. Yes, of course Erik remembered things Anna taught him! OH yes, I much prefer dialog than mongol...I really do...but sometime it can't be helped. I guess Erik and Christine could have started talking out loud to themselves, ha ha. And since they will be talking more from here on out, I hope there will not be much for you to 'skip over' to get to the good stuff. ha ha.

**Guest:** Well...I really didn't want you all to realize the plot of the story TOO soon. ha ha. Glad you are on board now though. Thanks for your wonderful compliments, I am so tickled you like it so well. Yes, Erik needs to take lessons in motivational speaking there, hu? No bricks and no lakes Erik. Bad. ha ha.

**TheRebbs98:** Nope, they don't know...yet! No, not TOO soon...but in time. Fear not, it will come.

**BrittaKnee226:** If I were Erik I would keep my mouth shut...Amir is too much of a ladies man, and that might lead to trouble. ha ha. Singing will come in time too. Thanks!

**Guessst:** Yep, alive and well. I will see what I can do about that 'falling head over heels in love thing'. I will get right on it , ha ha.

**PhantomChristine:** Well of course you have never read anything like this...I just wrote it. ha ha. I think we ALL hope she will see again...except for maybe Erik. He likes his new toy just the way she is. The reunion will come...be patient. And as for Erik and Christine getting married right away...well, lets see how things go over the next few days and then we will talk.

**Jobizzle:** Oh yes, FF has no calories! Fest upon the Eriky goodness. Erik can be her seeing eye Phantom? Sounds good to me!

.

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**Chapter 14**

**A Game of Questions**

* * *

Erik was happy! At least more so than he had ever been in his entire adult life. His little companion was still quiet, hardly speaking at all during the meal they shared, yet Erik took it in stride, understanding that there would likely be a substantial period of adjustment over the loss of her sight. That night, after she had eaten, taking in what Erik had deemed a healthy amount of the soup as well as two pieces of bread, he once more offered to draw her a bath…to which she reluctantly agreed. He led her into the bathing room and handed her a large absorbent bath towel and a small container of soap for her hair while he filled the tub. She appeared fearful as the sound of the water touched her ears, clutching the items to her chest like a shield. Yet soon her fear seemed to abate and Erik was able to impress her with his marvels of engineering when she quietly inquired if he had hot running water. He smiled broadly and he watched her eyes grow wide with amazement when he answered in the affirmative, not even bothering to hide his look of pride. When the tub was full, he once more asked her if there was anything she needed, describing exactly where he had placed her clean nightdress, his own dressing robe and a pair of thick socks for her feet. Bundled up in those items he felt she might be more comfortable leaving her room, which he dearly hoped she would do more often.

Leaving her alone, Erik stood outside the door and listened, mentally calculating her every move by the sounds she created. It appeared to take her a long time to undress, yet once more Erik chalked that up to apprehension and fear of the water she was about to encase herself in. When he heard the tell-tale sound of water being disturbed, he knew she was climbing in – and very slowly by the sounds of it. Then there was nothing. No movement, no splashing, no loud thump to indicate that she had slipped and fallen in. Erik held his breath and pressed his ear closer to the door in a state of panic. Had she duped him? Had her claim that she no longer wished to kill herself been all for show, a pretense to have him provide an easy method of suicide? Was she at that moment completely submerged in the water, over her head as she breathed her last?

Erik was about to burst in, ready to pull her from her watery grave a second time, when he heard it…_crying_. Yet this time it was not the deep sobs he had become accustomed to from her, but instead the small and pitiable sound of acceptance. This was followed by the quiet splashes of water as she began to clean herself, obviously using the soap and rag he had left on the small table nearby. With a sigh of relief, Erik left the door and headed off to clean up the soup she had thrown against the wall earlier, now satisfied that his little mermaid would not drown herself on his watch.

.

.

The next several days were all about finding a routine. The first thing Erik did was take her on a tour of his home, directing her to every room he deemed safe or of interest. The laboratory he skipped, deciding that all the glass beakers and fragile vials could be a potential hazard to a blind woman, not to mention the integrity of his ongoing experiments. Since she could not see a clock, he kept her up to date on the time, notifying her when lunch and dinner were approaching. Breakfast was easy, since they ate directly after rising and getting dressed. Erik still sat just inside her doorway each night, doing all he could to comfort her when she cried out in the throes of a nightmare, yet he never dared touch her while doing so. He allowed only his words and songs to soothe the poor girl, yet wishing he could instead wrap her within his arms and not just his voice alone. It was on those quiet night vigils that he recalled Anna's words when he was a child…_no one should be left alone when they are scared_. Erik remembered this well and took it to heart.

It was already two days past his scheduled meeting time with Amir when Erik realized he had completely forgotten about it. Yet, with a shrug, he brushed away any concern over his forgetfulness. He now had more important things to fill his time and one skipped appointment was a minor annoyance compared to the excitement of attending to Christine. Besides, it was not like the world had come to a screeching halt, and as far as he knew, Amir had not suddenly expired from lack of his company. He would simply explain it away next week by saying he had been too wrapped up in his plans for the music festival. He was certain the Persian was gullible enough to buy it.

The appointment he did _not_ forget, however, was that of retrieving his needed supplies at the location he and Victor had long ago agreed upon. His stores of food were already running low, and with Christine's renewed appetite, he was going through them even faster. So much so that he sent word by post to his assistant that he needed to increase the deliveries to every week, ensuring that his honored guest had fresh milk and eggs to fortify her dietary needs. The ladies' garments the man had procured at Erik's request had been greatly appreciated by Christine. Now that she was not spending all her time in bed, she preferred to dress for the day and the addition of a few new outfits, as well as undergarments, had made her very happy. The smile on her face had prompted Erik to order two more outfits along with a pair of shoes and a house robe of the finest silk. He found it vastly entertaining to see her wearing clothes that he had given her, and he would wait in eager anticipation to see which one she would choose each morning. Perhaps the idea of supplying Christine with intimate apparel should have caused him more embarrassment than it did, yet it was not as if_ he_ had to go into a store and select such items himself. That is what he paid Victor for.

It thoroughly astounded Erik that he felt so comfortable around her, something he had not experienced with anyone since losing Anna. But Christine exuded a certain warmth, an alluring lilt to her voice and an appealing countenance, that often left him staring at her in amazement. Her being there felt right…almost _familiar._

Christine was still unwilling to speak about herself or her past, which left them with only a few conversation starters, since Erik was equally reluctant to talk about his own. Books, music, current events – well as current as either of them knew – were the topics they chose to discuss, and they seemed to pass the time nicely. Yet, the moment Erik offered to play for her, he knew he had stumbled upon the_ perfect_ pastime. Surprisingly, Erik thoroughly enjoyed sharing his music with her, thinking back to the times when he would play for Anna, and she would sit there, very much like Christine now did, enraptured by the melodies he created on the piano, the pipe organ, and occasionally the violin. It was this that prompted his mysterious guest to reveal the fact that both her parents could play instruments, and that her father was a master at the violin. With a bright smile, Christine regaled Erik with stories about how the man could coax such a range of emotions from the stringed instrument, many of his songs able to bring tears to her eyes.

"I am certain that my father would be highly impressed with your skills, Erik," Christine assured him, directly after hearing him perform a piece of his own design. "Our house always had music, but I have never heard anyone play as wonderfully as you. You are truly a master musician, Monsieur."

Erik was grateful that she could not see the blush that stained his neck and chin at her words. He had not heard such praise since Anna, and that had been many years ago.

"Thank… you, Christine," he at last stammered, hurriedly rifling through his papers in an attempt to distract himself. "And might you have inherited some of their musical talent as well?" He had hoped to shift the conversation off of himself, instead, this brought their enjoyable discussion to an abrupt halt.

"I…I am feeling tired now," she suddenly announced, the smile leaving her lips as she stood. "I would like to rest for a while, please."

"Of course," Erik replied rising from the bench to escort her to her room. He was confused by her sudden shift in mood, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the question he had posed to her. Still, he would not press her for an answer…at least not yet. "I did not mean to tire you out by playing so long. I often get carried away and do not know when to stop. An old habit that is hard to break, I fear."

"No…it was not you…I am just tired is all," she insisted, entering her room alone when they arrived at her door. "Thank you," she whispered as she shut it gently behind her, leaving a confused and lonely Erik to entertain himself.

Erik returned to his music room and sat at his piano, staring at the keys without truly seeing them. Instead he saw her. Christine…his dulcet little angel who taunted him day and night. In just a short time he had come to rely on her gentle presence, feeding off her kindness as if it were his life's blood. She was in the forefront of all his thoughts, his waking hours spent thinking solely of her, and at night…at night she even haunted his dreams. Never had Erik been so enthralled with another human being or cared so much about their happiness over his own. Well, there had been Anna, but she had been more of a beloved mother-figure to him…while Christine was something _completely_ different.

Without even thinking, his fingers began to skate over the keys, music forming out of nowhere as he composed a tune inspired solely by her beauty. The notes flowed out of him and filled the room with images of her and her grace. Erik forced himself to stop his creative process long enough to grab some blank staff paper and jot the notes down. Once he had logged all he had played so far, he went back to composing, not once faltering or left searching for inspiration. All he had to do was shut his eyes, picture his beautiful angel, and that was all the motivation he required.

Erik was so lost in his composition that he had completely forgotten the time, and Christine was left to seek him out, having to speak his name several times before he heard her. When he looked up at the clock and saw that it was hours past dinner time, he felt horrible. Some host he was, so wrapped up in his music that he forgot to feed his guest! She must be starving by now, and the thought that he might have made her suffer caused him deep distress. With many words of apology he quickly prepared her a meal, hovering over her as she ate, eager to do anything to make up for his failure to attend to her needs. She repeatedly told him not to worry, but her forgiving nature only made him feel worse. He did not deserve to have such a kind woman in his home…yet he would kill any who dared try and take her!

.

.

Erik found it odd that Christine never requested to leave or asked him to send word to any family or friends to inform them that she was alive and well. She had mentioned having parents, but Erik supposed that both could easily have died some time ago, leaving her without a family to miss her. Perhaps it was rather scandalous that she was staying within his home, a single girl and a bachelor alone and unchaperoned, but if Christine noticed the impropriety of the situation she never said so. It was like they shared some unspoken understanding that she wished to remain hidden away…almost as much as he did. And since Erik had no desire for her to leave, the subject was never mentioned.

Many times when he was not intensely occupied by Christine's company, or writing music inspired by her, Erik would sit in the parlor and shut his eyes, trying to imagine what she was going through. He pictured how his own life would be altered should he suddenly lose the ability to see. Writing music would be difficult, yet not impossible. Cooking, cleaning and other mundane chores that kept his house in good order would obviously prove problematic – yet he supposed he _could_ hire someone to do such things for him if he were that desperate. There would also be the added benefit of never having to see his own hideous face again or the grotesque scars that riddled his body. Being blind was becoming rather appealing until he realized several major drawbacks. Without his eyes, Erik could not build or design, not even draw up a set of blueprints… and to give up architecture would be a painful loss indeed. He would also not be able to look upon the loveliness of Christine, unable to admire the angelic beauty she was - something he had become extremely fond of doing very quickly. No…it was best that he remained among the sighted, for with the use of his eyes, he could now offer Christine his assistance.

It was true that Christine could not cook or clean, but she had him to care for such matters. Granted, she could not read a book on her own, but he was only too happy to sit for hours and tell her stories or read to her from any tome she chose. Christine could not see if the ribbon in her hair was the correct shade to match her dress, but Erik could easily inform her of any fashion faux-pas. And even though she was improving a bit every day, she still needed him to guide her around his underground home, something that he was immensely happy to do. For once in his life…Erik felt _needed_. He had a purpose and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

.

.

"Where were you born, Monsieur?" Christine asked one evening, causing Erik to pause mid-swallow, choking a bit on his tea as it went down the wrong pipe.

"Pardon?" he asked, once he was able to speak again. They were just finishing dinner, Erik having described the contents of her plate to her in terms of a clock; her meat at one o'clock, her vegetables at four o'clock and her roll at eight o'clock. It had worked out very well. Yet her unexpected question had surprised him, for it had been ten days since he had found her on his lake shore and this was the first time she had shown any interest in him personally - besides asking his name. Erik was not sure how he felt about that.

"I was wondering what country you were born in," she repeated, setting down her fork as she waited for him to respond.

"Why would you care?" Erik was not used to people showing an interest in him, unless there was something for them to gain, leaving him a bit wary.

"I am just curious," Christine answered casually. "You speak perfect French and your voice is so lovely to listen to, yet at times when you talk I can detect several different accents, leaving me wondering about your place of birth."

"Hmmm," Erik hummed in contemplation. He had never considered the fact that _he_ spoke with any sort of accent at all. The Daroga spoke with a foreign inflection, that was certain, and even Victor had a very thick brogue from southern France, but Erik had never noticed any such thing in _his_ manner of speech. How odd. "I must disagree with you, Christine. I am certain that I have no such speech impediment."

This caused Christine to laugh slightly, the sound startling both of them simultaneously. Erik had never heard such a pleasing sound from her before and from the way she quickly covered her lips, it was obvious that she was surprised to have let such a thing escape as well. Still, she composed herself and pressed on.

"I never said it was in any way offensive or unflattering, just a curiosity," she tried to explain.

Erik liked the idea of him being something to be curious about even less. Yet her line of questioning gave him an idea. Perhaps he could use such inquiry to his advantage.

"I will make a bargain with you," he offered, sitting back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I will answer your questions, if you will in turn answer the same ones of yourself. Deal?"

Christine was quiet for a moment before she nodded in agreement. She was still reluctant to divulge details about herself, but at least this way she would be controlling the direction of the questions.

"So…where were you born, Monsieur?" she asked once more.

"France." Erik replied easily.

"Well that is not fair, I was expecting someplace exotic, not right here in our own back yard," Christine said begrudgingly.

"Fair or not, I answered truthfully," he pointed out, leaning in a bit as he posed the question back at her. "And where do you hail from, my dear?"

"Sweden," Christine answered with a sigh of defeat.

_Sweden?_ No wonder Erik had felt a strange kinship to this girl, for she was born of the same people as his beloved Anna. Perhaps that was why she had fit so easily into his life, like a similar piece from a puzzle that had been lost to him so long ago. Though she spoke very fluent French, it had been obvious to him that it was not Christine's native tongue, he had just not been able to place her true origin. Now that he thought about it, he could easily recall her repeating a few idioms and native phrases his nanny had often used. The fact that the two women shared a heritage must be the reason.

"I hear that is a lovely country," Erik commented, unwilling to further share his personal thoughts on the subject. "Do you have any other questions?"

"How old are you?" Christine piped up.

"How old do you think I am?" Erik asked with a raised eyebrow, wondering just what number was running around in her mind.

"Now you _are_ cheating," she scolded. "I ask the questions and you are supposed to answer them, not pose new ones of your own."

"Very well," he chuckled. "I have this very year reached the old and doddering age of thirty-one." When he saw her eyes grow wide with surprise he couldn't help but remark on it. "Is that number more or less than you anticipated?"

"Less," she quickly assured him. "Your manner of speaking and the way you present yourself leads one to believe you are much more…_seasoned_," Christine finished, searching for the proper word.

"Seasoned?" Erik scoffed. "You make me sound like a plate of vegetables."

"That was not my intention at all, Monsieur!" she quickly assured him. "It was meant as a compliment, I assure you."

Not familiar with such things, Erik mulled it over for a moment before he decided she had indeed meant no offense and instead continued on with their game.

"And what, pray tell, is the vast number of your age, Mademoiselle Christine?"

"I will turn twenty-one this winter," she informed him shyly, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"Well, you _are_ quite the old maid now, aren't you?" he teased, instantly regretting his words when she looked up at him with a mixture of horror and anger.

"I hardly consider twenty-one to be that old!" she huffed. "Granted, most of my childhood companions are indeed wed with several babies on their knee, but that does not mean I am required to follow suit. Age should not determine when a person is ready to marry! My parents did not meet and fall in love until they were well into their thirties, proving that happiness is not dependent upon marrying young. Instead it should be contingent on compatibility, mutual admiration, explicit trust…and love!"

Erik was taken aback by her forceful words and he held up his hands in a form of defense as he tried to quell her anger.

"Please, I too meant no offense by my jest," he insisted. "I see nothing wrong with your desire of waiting to find the right partner in life." And in truth he didn't. For her insistence on remaining single thus far was a great joy to Erik…a great joy indeed. "I commend you for your convictions and obvious passion on the subject and you will hear no further disparagement from me."

"You…you agree with me?" she asked in disbelief.

"I do," he assured her. "I would not have said so otherwise. I have often been told that I am painfully blunt and do not possess the skills to be diplomatic or spare one's feelings in the giving of my opinion."

This admission brought forth another delightful laugh from Christine, much to Erik's pleasure.

"While I am disinclined to believe such things, Monsieur Erik," she smiled, "I must confess my shock at your open-mindedness. The standards for marriage are woefully different for men and women. A man can remain single very late into his life and no one will think a thing about it. Yet if a woman chooses not to accept the first proposal made to her, it is instantly believed that something is wrong with her." She paused a moment and could feel the heat in her cheeks as she thought of the stares and whispers that had begun to circulate in their small village. Names such as Crazy Christine came to mind, causing her hands to ball into fists. "Not many men condone a woman's right to decide her own fate, to hold out for what she wants in a marriage and to not simply go along with what is expected of her. Back in Sweden I was looked down upon for choosing not to wed at a young age like the rest of my friends. I am afraid your use of the word _old maid_ struck a very raw nerve."

"Then I doubly apologize for my faux pas," he said, begging her forgiveness. Christine's flushed cheeks and angry fists had not gone unnoticed by Erik and his first instinct had been to question her about her parents once more. He wished to learn if they too had been pressuring their daughter to settle down with some man, who in Erik's summation would have been completely unworthy of this angel. For with her radiant beauty and sweet disposition, what man could possibly hope to deserve the affections of one so fine…._certainly not him._ Yet recalling how the mere mention of them before had ended their friendly discussion, he wisely held his tongue.

"You are forgiven," Christine assured him.

"Do you have any more questions you wish to ask?" Erik sincerely hoped she did, for even if he had managed to incur her ire, he was thoroughly enjoying their conversation. Something he had never imagined he would be having around his small dining table.

"No…I think that is all I need to know for now," she mused, unsure if it was wise to continue with this game, for fear he might glean more information from her than she did him. She could tell he had a quick mind and would easily disarm her in a battle of wits.

"Then perhaps you would care to join me in the music room where I would be happy to entertain you?" he offered, pushing back his chair as he rose and came to her side.

"What about the dishes?" she asked, gesturing in the direction where she believed the empty plates now rested.

"I will tend to them later," he assured her, assisting her rise from her chair with his gentle assistance.

"I wish you would permit me to help you," she chided, allowing him to guide her from the room. "I am beginning to feel like a burden and that was most assuredly _not_ my intention."

"I see, and exactly what _was _your intention when you so flagrantly washed up on my lake shore?" he asked, once more the teasing tone creeping into his voice.

"Well…certainly not this," she laughed back, finding his question quite humorous.

"Then you can hardly be held accountable, can you?" he insisted. "Besides, you are no burden, I assure you, in fact, I rather enjoy your company. My home can become very…quiet with only myself to talk to."

"Why_ do_ you choose to live alone, Monsieur?" Christine asked as he directed her to the comfortable chair he had positioned beside the large pipe organ so that she was directly in his line of sight whenever he looked up from the keys.

"I thought you did not wish to play the question game any longer," he reminded, uncomfortable with the direction her query had taken.

"You are right," she nodded, sensing his reluctance to answer something so personal. "I will hold my curiosity in check."

"And as your reward for doing so, I will now play anything of your choosing," he offered as a compromise, wishing to regain that easiness they had been sharing earlier.

"Do you know any Chopin?" she asked excitedly, this being the first time Erik had taken requests.

"I do," he nodded, having studied the impressive composer quite thoroughly over the years. "Though some call his works technically demanding and note them for their nuance and sensitivity, I find him a bit pedantic. Yet, to please you, I will attempt to lower my standards and play a few of his less offensive pieces."

Christine did her best to stifle a laugh at Erik's blatant feelings of superiority, yet after he began to play one of Chopin's sonatas flawlessly, with no evidence of him having to search for any sheet music, she could find no reason to fault him for it. His own compositions had revealed his genius in her eyes, this only solidified it. So as she settled in, delighting in his masterful playing, Christine began to wonder if Erik truly did have any peers when it came to music.

.

.

Amir was just about to retire for the night, a cup of hot tea and a good book in his hands, when he heard a knock at his door, alerting him to the fact he had an unexpected guest. Waving off his manservant, Darius, he went to the door himself and was a bit taken aback to find Victor Batton, Erik's resident errand boy, waiting on the other side. As a former Persian police officer, Amir had made it his business to learn everything there was to know about Erik's current situation, and locating the young man who continued to work for his suspicious companion had not proven difficult. With a few well-placed threats, he had convinced Victor that it was in his best interest to inform him should Erik's habits ever take a, shall we say, _sinister turn_. The fact that the blond headed young man with the boyish face was now standing on his doorstep at this late hour did not bode well.

"Monsieur Batton," Amir greeted the seemingly nervous man. "What brings you here?"

"You…you said I should…well…advise you if I felt my employer was ever engaging in…questionable acts?" he sputtered, nervously looking over his shoulder while he spoke, as if he feared Erik might somehow learn of his betrayal and jump out of the shadows to kill him.

"That I did," Amir nodded, stepping aside as he invited the man in. Once the door was shut behind him, Victor seemed to relax…but only slightly. "And what has led you to conclude that he is _engaging in questionable acts_, as you put it?" Amir had been perplexed when Erik did not show up for their usual meeting last week, yet he had just assumed the man had been overly offended by some things he had said and chose to teach him a lesson by standing him up. He had not allowed it to unduly concern him, however, expecting to find the masked man waiting in their normal spot the following week, as if nothing had happened. Now he began to worry he should have taken his absence more seriously.

"I am not sure if _questionable_ is the right word for it…perhaps it could be better described as an oddity?" Victor confessed, almost as if he were recanting his accusation out of panic or a sense of loyalty to his employer. "And the last thing I would ever want is to say anything that would get Monsieur Erik in trouble…but you had promised that you only wished to help him, correct?"

"That is right," Amir confirmed. "I have been looking out for our mutual _friend_ for many years now and I have found that it is best to head off any suspicious activities before they have the opportunity to escalate into something of a more serious nature. You did the right thing in coming to me."

"I hope so, for I would never wish to betray my employer's trust or confidence. And I am sure that I am making mountains out of molehills…but I thought it best I let you know…just in case." Victor was growing more reluctant by the second and Amir was afraid the man would suddenly bolt and run without explaining himself.

"In case of what?" the Persian insisted, growing impatient. "What has he done?"

"He…he has been asking me to procure some rather strange items for him. Things that…well…things I do not see him being in need of if he were in possession of a sound mind," Victor finished, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Amir for inspection.

Taking the parchment in his hand, Amir read it quickly, fear gripping at his chest as he did so. The beginning of the note was harmless enough; Erik was requesting that Victor increase his deliveries to twice a week and then proceeded to list the items he wanted. The amount and variety of the food was a bit surprising, given Erik's aversion to eating in general, but it was the last few articles on the list that caused Amir's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"Women's clothing?" he gasped, reading on. "A silk dressing gown and…a corset! Merciful Allah, what have you done, Erik?" he mumbled in a mixture of worry and grief.

"Then I was right in telling you, Monsieur?" Victor conferred, seeing that the Persian's reaction had mirrored his own. "At first I thought maybe it was some mistake, that perhaps he had been drunk when he wrote the previous list, yet when this second one asked for similar items, I became greatly concerned."

"As well you should," Amir nodded. "You say this is not the first time he has requested such things?"

"No, last week he asked for two dresses in the exact same size as well as other garments of…well…of an_ intimate_ nature." The blush that came over his face left Amir feeling sorry for the lad, for as far as he knew, young Victor was not married and the idea of him having to go into a ladies' store to get such things surely would have mortified him. "I know that Monsieur Erik is rather…shall we say, _unique_…but I am quite certain that he is not crazy. Yet, insane or not, I know for a fact that none of the clothes I purchased would ever have fit _his _distinctive build."

"Indeed," Amir agreed, noting the unusually small sizes that were jotted down beside the list of clothing. This revelation suddenly brought back to mind something Monique had told him during their last rendezvous. When questioned about the antics of the Opera Ghost, she had admitted that he had been rather quiet the past week, citing only two incidents of a curious nature going on at the opera house. One being that a few dresses from the costume department had gone missing and the second that the ballet rats claimed that two nightgowns had disappeared as well. It was believed that one of the new chorus girls might have been helping herself to things that did not belong to her, but so far no one knew who the culprit was. Amir had quickly dismissed this, not seeing how Erik would have been involved with such thievery, yet now he began to think otherwise. What the hell did Erik need with women's clothing? There were only two explanations for this, and since Victor's shrewd reasoning on the first choice was sound, that left Amir with only one other conclusion….one that filled him with a sense of dread.

"When are you scheduled to deliver these items?" Amir asked, refolding the note and handing it back to the shaken man.

"Tomorrow at noon," Victor informed him.

"I take it you have already procured these things?" At the way the poor man's face turned six shades of red, Amir assumed he had. "Then make the drop as planned, do not do anything that would cause Erik to think something is amiss. I will see to the rest."

"Please, Monsieur Dessan, don't let Erik get into any trouble over this," Victor begged, looking truly grieved at the idea. "He has been a very generous employer over the years and I have grown to respect him, despite his gruff exterior and quick temper. I would just die if I was the cause for any misfortune to befall him. You promise that you will help him…that you will protect him?"

"Like I said, I have been doing just that for years," Amir assured him. "I am rather proficient at getting Erik out of scrapes as well as hiding the evidence for the ones I could not. I am sure this is all some kind of odd mistake and that there is a very reasonable explanation. Do not worry; I will see that things are handled in his best interest."

This seemed to ease much of the stress Victor was feeling, and with a shake of his hand and a word of thanks, the young man headed back out into the night, leaving Amir to contemplate what he needed to do next.

While he had not told Victor any lies, he truly hoped that he could live up to his promise to keep Erik out of trouble. Amir had no qualms about overlooking some minor wrongdoing on Erik's part that could have possibly landed his charge in jail. He had been doing that ever since he had discovered Erik's Opera Ghost persona. As the man who had originally brought Erik to Persia, Amir felt a sense of responsibility for him, the need to make amends for the role he had played in the pain and torment the masked man had suffered at the hands of the Shah. That was why he had risked his own life to set him free, to help him escape the sentence of death he had been commissioned to carry out. Oh, he never once underestimated Erik's capability to do harm, he had seen his skills put to use far too many times back in Persia, yet he had always hoped there was still a spark of goodness left in him. Something that could be nurtured and grow into greatness if the poor man could only be left alone by the people and hatred this world seemed to foist upon him.

However, when he thought of the strange list Victor had shown him, he felt a chill run down his spine. Had his foolhardy suggestion that Erik pay a lady of the evening for her services taken a very wrong turn? Amir had thought such an act might alleviate some of Erik's constant agitation, not bring on a whole new set of troubles for the masked man. A multitude of scenarios began to race though his mind. Had Erik paid some girl to pleasure him and something had gone terribly wrong? Perhaps she had become curious and removed his mask - an unforgivable act that could have easily led to her imprisonment. Or maybe this woman had so pleased him that Erik had kidnapped her and was now keeping her down in his lair, needing these extra items so he could adequately feed and clothe his little captive? But what if it was completely innocent? Erik could simply be plying some girl with gifts, either in an attempt to woo her or for some other unknown reason. Still, the intimate nature of the items on the list caused the Persian to be rightly concerned.

Amir moaned in frustration, for nothing made sense! While he had often told Erik that he had great potential, he was not foolish enough to believe that just _any_ woman would be able to overlook the masked man's unfortunate appearance or his surly attitude. It would take a very special woman indeed to see past the façade Erik had built up over the years as a means of protection. Yet Erik was still a man, and just like all men, he too had needs that would eventually require fulfillment.

"Oh, Erik…what _have _you done?" he asked with a sigh of grief.

* * *

**Well...something tells me that Amir is going to find out!**

Now many of you have been anxious to see what happens with Christine's sight, if Erik will ever find out Anna is her mother or when they will be reunited at last. Well, I am happy to announce that if you NEED to know...like NOW...then** _you can go to Amazon . com and purchase "Seeing is Believing" by Ann Maggard, in full as a download for your Kindle. _**That way there is no waiting, you can learn everything in one fell swoop. OR, you can continue to tune in three times a week here and find out free of charge. Your choice. BUT, if you do buy it, please conciser privately PMing me (so as not so spoil it for the rest of the readers) and telling me what you thought when you are all done...I will miss you and your reviews if you suddenly disappear.

**That being said...what did you think of her bath and Erik's worry?**

**Erik losing himself in music and forgetting everything around him...AGAIN.**

**Their game of questions?**

**Erik feeling that something about Christine seems familiar to him...**

**Amir and Victor's talk over Erik's odd requests.**

**Thanks and see you on Friday!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you to all who ran over and bought my book on Amazon/Kindle over the past two days!**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Be sure to check out the A/N at the end of the chapter...there is a CONTEST!**

**Guest Reviews:**

**Mystery:** Erik and Amir confrontations are a LOT of fun! So...you read "a battle of twits" and not wits? ha ha, too funny. Now get some sleep girl.

**syrianlight:** Yah, but to a girl, even one who almost down, a warm bath is a treat. ha ha. Erik should invent the alarm clock just for that reason! I will not say a word about familiarity then. Mums the word. You were wise to put on the helmet. I am so glad you agree on what their love should be based on. Thanks!

**PhantomChristine:** yes, Amir and Victor are a hoot. Well I am glad...since I doubt I could convince either of them that it is a good idea at this point in time. ha ha. I will...in fact if you read the A/N at the end you could earn a bonus chapter!

**TheRebbs98:** Erik will get that vibe from time to time...but will he listen to it? Erik...have a tantrum? Nooooo, not him. (ha ha) Amir is bound to put his foot in his mouth and maybe get one in the butt too, ha ha. Is Erik in a dill pickle or a sweet pickle?

**EC4ever:** I wanted to write more to you in the last chapter, but I was anxious to get your "hello and thank you" up before you reached that chapter...you were reading and reviewing so FAST. ha ha. As you saw, yes it was her X that was shooting blanks, and yes, Erik inherited his sexiness from his daddy, you were right about Anna going to Sweden and finding a genius violinist, and thanks for liking the line "Erik hates you" it was one of my favorite too - so powerful! Can't wait to hear more from you!

**Guessst:** Mums the word...I will not tell him you said that Anna is Christine's mom. "She is WHAT?" Oh no...Erik overheard me! Run for the hills!

**Guest:** Well, it would appear that you DON'T have to wait any longer...here it is. ha ha.

.

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**Chapter 15**

**A Persian Infestation**

* * *

Morning came, and with it a new sense of excitement for Erik. Every day was proving to be so, for each day there was the chance of something wonderful happening, now that Christine was here. He had sat inside her room long into the night, waiting for one of her usual nightmares, but for the first time since she arrived, Christine had slept straight through undisturbed. This did not stop Erik from sitting there and watching her though, for it had become a habit he did not wish to break. She was so beautiful when she slept, so peaceful and angelic that he could not tear his eyes off of her. He loved it when she would give a gentle sigh or roll over…or, well, anything really. Each movement was like a ballet to him and he cherished every moment in her presence. He just hoped she never learned of his nocturnal observations, feeling that she might think him some demented voyeur if she found out. Yet his motives were pure…or they had been when he began his nightly vigil. He hated it when she cried out in her dreams and if he were in another room when it took place, he wasted precious seconds getting to her side in order to quiet her fears. No, it was better to be on hand than anywhere else, and so he sat in the chair each night, waiting and watching.

She never spoke of her dreams and Erik was unsure if she even knew she had such nightmares, so he did not mention it when she had one. Instead they shared a nice breakfast and then Erik read to her for a bit. They never seemed to do a lot, but Erik would not trade a moment of his time spent with her for anything. Later that morning he took a few minutes to check the wound on her forehead again, choosing to remove her bandages altogether now that the swelling had gone down considerably and the gash was healing nicely. Leaving it uncovered would allow it to breathe as well as make it much easier for Christine to brush her hair. She would still have to be very careful around it and do her best not to get it wet when bathing, but from the looks of it, there would only be a slight scar, and even that could easily be hidden by her hair.

After lunch, he suggested that she take a nap, since he had to go out and he felt better doing so if he knew she was safely in one place and not wandering about. There were still many dangers in his home and he needed to go up to street level to retrieve Victor's delivery. She complied without protest, allowing him to escort her to her room before he donned his cape and hat, heading out the door. It had a secret lock on it, guaranteeing that she could not get out, but more importantly, that no one could get in. Leaving her alone made his skin crawl, especially if he thought about how vulnerable she was, unable to see in order to escape should anyone choose to accost her. Not that anyone would be stumbling around in the cellars beneath the opera house, and if they were, Erik's traps would surely ensnare them first, alerting him to their unwanted presence. So, feeling somewhat pacified over this thought, Erik headed up.

.

.

The package of supplies was waiting for him when he arrived, and scooping it up he immediately turned back around, making his way down below. He was very excited about giving Christine the new dresses and articles of clothing he had ordered and his mind was easily distracted during his journey. Would she smile again at his gifts, her tempting lips offering him a word of thanks and maybe…just maybe, one day a kiss? Oh, that would be heaven! He was not expecting it to be on his lips…no, that would be too great a dream, but on his cheek perhaps?

NO! That would not do, since his cheek was covered and if she were to try and kiss him there, she would discover he wore a mask, something he had been very diligent in keeping secret. He never allowed her to get close enough to touch him, at least not on his face. He made sure his hands were gloved at all times, never daring to let skin touch skin, but dreaming of that very thing every night. No, he would accept her words and smiles…but not her touches. For those were sacred, those were reserved for intimacies that he had yet to earn from his little angel. He would be satisfied with what he was given and not ask for more. It would be best that way.

He had mulled over such troubling thoughts the entire way back to his home, quickly letting himself inside and setting his package down before removing his cloak and hanging it up in the hall. He stood outside Christine's room for a moment, relieved to hear her quiet, steady breathing that told him she was still napping. He would be very quiet and not disturb her slumber, knowing that she needed all her rest to properly recuperate.

Erik had just put the perishable food items in the icebox in his kitchen when he heard the strangest sound…_a knock at his door?_ At first it startled him, never having heard such a thing before, but this feeling was quickly followed by panic and anger. Who dared to disturb him down here? Who had the gall to follow him through his tunnels and around the many traps in order to invade his home? Who else…but the Persian!

With a curse on his lips he stormed to the door and flung it open, finding the very man he now wished to kill. Amir must have suspected that Erik would not be pleased to see him, for he was holding his hand up to his temple, his only defense against the possible implementation of the Punjab lasso.

"Good afternoon, Erik," Amir said, acting as if his appearance was an everyday occurrence.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Erik growled, both irritated and mildly impressed that the Daroga had successfully navigated through his traps as well as thwarted the use of his weapon of choice.

"You missed our weekly meeting, so I decided I would pay you a visit to find out why," he lied easily enough. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"No!" Erik barked as he moved to shut the door in his face.

"Well, that is rather rude," Amir quipped, taking a step forward and blocking the doorway. "Here I manage to make it all the way down here, avoiding all your traps…well, almost all of them," he muttered as he shook his left foot, his pant leg dripping wet and his shoe giving an unpleasant sloshing sound. "And you refuse to let me in? Must I remind you of our agreement, Erik?"

"The deal was that I would meet with you once a week aboveground, not down here in my personal home," Erik huffed.

"Correct. A deal which you broke by standing me up last week," he pointed out, taking another step forward, causing Erik to move back as he gained access inside. "Thus I was forced to alter the agreement in order to ensure that you were indeed not up to anything nefarious."

"I think you would know if I were planning to take down the government or blow up Paris," Erik said with an exasperated sigh. "For I assure you, Daroga, your life would be the very first I would snuff out in my plot to take over the world. Now I suggest you leave unless you wish to test me on that matter."

"Oh, Erik, do you truly take me for a fool?" Amir laughed, though there was no humor in it. "I long ago took precautions against your threats to silence me. If I do not return home tonight, safe and in one piece, my man, Darius, is instructed to see that a letter detailing all your past exploits, as well as the insistence that you somehow murdered me, goes directly to the Gendarmes. You would be exposed and your underground lair ransacked within the hour. So I think it best you let me in, offer me some tea and just get this over with."

Erik was livid. He hated being pushed into a corner, especially by the Persian who thought himself so self-righteously superior to everyone around him. What he wouldn't give to knock him down a peg or two…yet he might get carried away in the process and end his miserable life accidentally, and then where would he be? So Erik did the only thing he could in the situation…he let him in.

Once he was comfortably seated in the parlor, Erik perched tensely in an opposite chair, Amir quietly allowed his eyes to wander around the room.

"You have a very nice place here, Erik," he nodded in admiration. And it was true. He had half expected to find a dark, damp tunnel with only a few sticks of furniture, but not something as lavish as this. Honestly he had never given much thought to how his masked charge lived at all. Yet his home was quite amazing, appearing for all intents and purposes like a high end flat one might find on any rue in the city. It was warm, cheery and expensively appointed with antique and modern furniture alike. Amir could have been very comfortable there, if it were not for the look of death being given to him by his host, or the sensitive nature of the errand that had brought him there in the first place. He cleared his throat and tried to sound unaffected by all this. "So are you going to offer me tea?"

"Don't push it, Daroga!" Erik seethed. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to drift to the doorway that led to the hall, knowing that Christine was only two rooms down, hopefully sleeping sound enough that she did not hear they had a visitor. "Just say what you came to say and be done with it. My patience is reaching its end and you do not want to be here when that happens!"

Amir gulped down his fear as he leaned forward, pointing to the opened package that sat on the table beside him, recognizing it as the one Erik had picked up from Victor and carried back down.

"What do you have here?" he asked as casually as possible, pulling one of the dresses out of the box and holding it up for inspection.

Erik flew out of his seat and grabbed it from Amir's hand, stuffing it back in the box and shutting the lid violently.

"That is none of your business!" he shouted, then quickly lowered his voice as he continued. "I do not go around prying into your personal affairs, so I would thank you to show the same consideration with mine."

"So you admit to having an affair?" Amir accused, shooting up from his own chair. "Who is she, Erik? Some working girl from the streets…one of the ballet rats perhaps? Who, Erik, and where are you keeping her?" He was trying desperately to appear in control, when in truth, he was petrified of what Erik might do to him if he pushed too hard. He had seen far too much of Erik's handiwork in Persia not to have a healthy amount of fear of the man. As the Shah's master assassin Erik had taken many lives and Amir did not wish his name to be added to that long and bloody list. Yet there was the distinct possibility that, down here in this underground prison, a poor woman was being held captive and it was his moral obligation to rescue her. He had long ago sworn to protect Erik…even if he had to do so from himself!

"I admit to nothing!" Erik once more growled in response. This ridiculous Persian was going to be the death of him for sure…or of himself, if he kept this up. How dare he insinuate that he, the omnipotent Opera Ghost, would stoop to having a dalliance with some insignificant woman! The idea was ludicrous! "Now if you are quite through insulting my intelligence, as well as my moral character, I would be most gratified if you would leave!"

Even though Erik had tried to maintain his temper, which seemed impossible when forced to deal with such an insufferable man like Amir Dessan, he was suddenly alerted to the painful fact that his raised voice had been overheard. His keen ears immediately detected the door to Christine's bedchamber opening, followed by the quiet shuffling of her feet that announced her approach. Erik shut his eyes and gave a long sigh of defeat. Damn…this was not going to go well.

"Erik…is that you?" Christine asked as she came around the corner and entered the parlor, her hands feeling their way along the wall.

Erik opened his eyes just in time to see Amir's grow to the size of saucers and his mouth fall open in disbelief. Yet before the Persian could formulate words to express his shock and horror, Erik raised a threatening finger in front of his face, his eyes conveying the emphatic message to remain silent. Once Amir had shut his mouth in compliance, Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves, slipping them on before he turned towards Christine, extending his hand to take the one she now had raised.

"Yes, my dear," he assured her. "I am sorry I woke you. It was not my intention to do so."

"It is all right," Christine replied with a smile. "I fear I sleep too much as it is. I thought I heard you talking. Were you composing or reading aloud?"

Erik wished he could say yes and simply direct the girl back to her room, but one look at the irritating Persian told him that he would not be able to get away with such a thing, so in the end, he confessed the truth.

"No, Christine, I was speaking with an acquaintance, who unexpectedly dropped in for a quick visit." He hoped that Amir caught the hint that he intended his stay to be brief.

"You…you have a guest?" Christine took an involuntary step backwards, her sightless eyes darting around the room anxiously. It was evident to Erik, as well as the observant Amir, that the idea of meeting a stranger did not appeal to her at all.

"Please forgive my intrusion, my lady," Amir began, foolishly ignoring Erik's warning about keeping silent. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Amir…" He intended to give his last name as well, but Erik expertly cut him off mid-sentence.

"And like I said, he is not able to stay long," Erik interjected, giving the Daroga another stern look, daring him to disobey a second time and see what it would cost him.

Amir was unsure why Erik did not wish for him to reveal his last name to the girl, but perhaps it had something to do with the masked man's aversion to sharing his own. Back in Persia it had taken Amir a long time before he was able to get Erik to divulge his family name, Trouville. Granted he had went fishing for the information when Erik was not in full control of his faculties, having been quite high on the drugs the Shah made sure he was constantly plied with. Amir was never foolish enough to inform Erik that he had wormed the information out of him, or speak it out loud, for it was obvious that he had chosen to leave it behind for a good reason. Still, knowledge is power, or so they say, and when dealing with a man as terrifyingly influential as the Shah's favorite assassin had become…Amir knew he needed all the power he could get.

Christine did not know what to do or say, she had not been prepared for visitors and she felt very shy and awkward because of her blindness. Even the meeting of a new person took on a whole new meaning, not being able to see them or make a visual connection between a voice and a face. She felt horribly inadequate and frightened.

Erik could sense her trepidation, and in an attempt to offer her a measure of stability he gently guided her over to the chair he had just vacated, easing her down yet never releasing his hold on her hand.

Amir too returned to his seat, his eyes glued to the lovely girl before him who appeared to be clutching Erik's hand as if her life depended on it. Was it fear of him and his unexpected presence that was causing her such distress, or was she instead fearful of Erik and what he might do to her should she make any attempts at escape? Yet, thus far, she was showing no signs of being held captive and Erik had addressed her with unexpected kindness, even going so far as to touch her with only gloved hands…how odd. He also noted how the girl had apparently not seen him there when she entered, leading him to wonder if there could be something wrong with her eyes or her mind? And why on earth had Erik cut him off, adamant that he not reveal his last name? Amir was very perplexed…he had to know more.

"Again, I must apologize for my unexpected appearance," Amir began, doing his best to keep the anxiousness out of his voice. "It is just that I wished to speak with Erik and he is a rather difficult man to gain an audience with these days."

"It…it is quite all right, Monsieur," Christine told him quietly, keeping her eyes lowered as she spoke. "I am only a guest in Erik's home and he is free to entertain whatever company he chooses."

"Yet as his guest, I am fairly certain that he would wish for you to be comfortable as well," Amir replied diplomatically, noting how uneasy the girl truly appeared. He wished she would look up so that he could ascertain if he had been correct in his assumption that she was indeed blind. If she was, that would explain much, especially why she was holding the hand of the masked man beside her. "Tell me, Mademoiselle, how long have you been a guest of Erik's?"

"She has been under my care for almost two weeks now," Erik answered for her, not liking the idea of the Daroga interrogating her. "Christine was one of the unfortunate victims of the barge accident you spoke of. I found her washed up on the edge of my lake and she has been staying with me during her recovery."

"I am so dreadfully sorry to hear of your harrowing experience…Christine is it?" Things were beginning to make a bit more sense. Erik had not sought this girl out to fulfil any suppressed desires; he had in fact saved her after a terrible accident. Perhaps his previous assumptions about Erik's nefarious nature had been wrong…in this instance at least. "I do hope you have not suffered any lasting effects from the incident."

Erik could feel the grip on his hand tighten at the question and he intended to intervene on her behalf once again and silence the probing Persian, but Christine answered quietly before he had the chance.

"I…I am now blind, Monsieur," she whispered so quietly that Amir had to strain to hear her. "I struck my head and have not been able to see anything since."

Amir was not shocked by her confession, for he had suspected it from the start, yet the sorrow in her voice and the tears that sprang to her eyes cut him to the core. It was no wonder that even one as hardened as Erik had been helpless to resist coming to her aid. Her pitiable circumstances mixed with her entrancing appearance made even Amir wish to take her in his arms and offer her comfort…and he had only just met her! He could easily imagine how attached Erik had become, already having spent almost two weeks with the girl. The fact that he was buying her fancy dresses and other items was a blatant testimony to this.

"You poor dear," Amir lamented, leaning forward just a bit. "I am so sorry for you. I am very well acquainted with quite a few doctors in the city and I would be most happy to get you in to see one that specializes in your condition. Perhaps they can offer you some hope in recovery. Please, is there anything I could do to assist you?"

"I have been tending to her needs more than adequately, Daroga," Erik broke in, rage building within him over the fact that the Persian's visit and continued questions had now made Christine cry.

"I am certain you have, Erik," Amir agreed, seeing no signs of the girl being mistreated in any way. "I just thought she would wish to return to the city, to be seen by a medical professional or seek out friends and family for support. She certainly cannot remain in your care indefinitely, it would not be proper. I could help her with all that."

This suggestion seemed to only further agitate Christine, her tears now coming out in quiet sobs as she turned and grabbed Erik's arm frantically.

"Please don't make me leave!" she begged. "Don't let him take me back to the city!"

Erik was immediately on his knees beside the chair, retaining hold of her hand as he gently patted the back of it with his other.

"There, there, Christine," he whispered. "No one is going to make you leave if you do not wish to. You can stay here as long as you need. Hush now, don't cry, my dear. Don't cry." He then turned and gave Amir an evil glare, making him pull back from the heat of his ire.

"I…I want to go back to my room now," Christine told him between sobs. "I want to be alone. Please, Erik."

"And so you shall," he agreed, and without even thinking he reached out and scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the room, away from that damnable man who had so callously upset her.

Far too soon for his liking, he was placing her on the bed and pulling the thick coverlet up around her chin, brushing her hair away from her face where some of it had stuck to her tear stained cheek. "Rest now for a bit and I will check in on you later. And don't worry, Erik will make sure that everything is fine. You will see; Erik will take care of everything. Now sleep."

It only took a few moments for her to comply with his soothing, yet almost compelling commands, her poor mind eager for the peace that sleep would bring. Erik hated to leave her side, yet that dastardly Daroga was still currently invading his parlor and he needed to rid himself of the infestation as soon as possible.

_Permanently, if he had his way!_

* * *

**YOU BETTER RUN AMIR! (did you like the title to this chapter?)**

**So...what did you think of Amir's visit?**

**Do you think he will get out of there alive?**

**Erik was so happy that she wanted to stay with him, I think he might have even smiled a little behind his mask of anger towards Amir. ha ha.**

_**CONTEST:**_ Ok, would you like to earn a bonus chapter this Saturday night? Well, at the risk of this sounding boastful – which I don't mean to – but I can't help it...all you have to do is tell me which POTO Fan Fic is currently the #1 most reviewed story...ever. Once you have the answer, let me know your guess when you review, and I will not only reward EVERYONE for your correct response with a bonus chapter this weekend, but offer a free snippet card to the first THREE who answered correctly. OK? (a free snippet card can be used to get a preview of a future chapter whenever you choose to redeem it - this can only apply to those with accounts though, there is no way for me to send a snippet to a guest reviewer...sorry)


	16. Chapter 16

**YES! You guessed right! Mystery Behind the Mask just moved into the #1 spot for most reviewed story on this POTO site! You ALL had a big hand in this, but I must thank Luthien159 for sending in the review that put it over the top.**

**For this bonus chapter you are getting right now, you have Lysistrate to thank for coming up with the first correct answer - though many of you guessed it was MBTM as well. And congratulations on those who received their free snippet cards! Spend them wisely!**

**Guest Reviews:**

**TheRebbs98:** Yep, Amir is in deep doo-doo. Erik could probably have defeated any government, as long as he was in his right might and not all drugged up, that is. Nope, She wants to stay put! I do hope you savor every word...I wrote them all just for you...and a few other. ha ha. And a thousand tiny Amirs running around Erik's house IS his worst nightmare. He would be stomping on them left and right! And that was a great guess!

**Guest 1:** Oh that IS an awesome book! But as far as I know it has never been here on Fan Fiction. I will thus refer you to my notes above for the answer. But thanks for playing!

**Guest 2:** Thanks! I will not stop you from doing that, not at all. ha ha. And I am a big fan of you now for saying so. And no, it is not Phantom by Susan Kay, though I love that story dearly. See above for the correct answer. Thanks for playing!

**Guessst:** Until yesterday, that awesome story 'When All is Lost' WAS the most reviewed, but today...it is Mystery Behind the Mask! Eeeeppppp. And wow, Erik would NOT be happy with hundreds of little Amir's running around his lair. Not. At. All!

**syrianlight:** Well...her blindness for one. you will learn more VERY soon. (Shhhh, don't' tell Erik, remember!) Do you really think a chair would deter Erik from killing Amir if he really wanted to? We love it when Christine makes Erik smile.

**PhantomChristine:** The one you mentioned is #3 I believe, and yes, hangs head in shame...I did mean one of mine, ha ha. And no...Siren of the Sea in #4. I am glad you liked my title for the chapter! ha ha, I am not sure if Erik HAS a torture chamber in his house...but if anyone will find out, it would be Amir. ha ha.

**Mystery:** Hmmm, wonder why your first one didn't come through for a long while. I got them both almost at the same time. Erik and Amir are fun to write too. She is working on snapping out of it...I just couldn't let it happen TOO fast. And your guess is correct! Too bad you don't have an account or I could offer you a snippet card too! Wow...punjab lasso speed...that IS fast!

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 16**

**An Unexpected Reprieve**

* * *

Amir had been pacing the room in Erik's absence, his mind swirling with the new information he had just gained. All his assumptions about the situation had been completely off course. Erik was not the villain here…he was the _hero?_ His selfless care for the girl was evident and it would appear that she had grown to trust and depend on Erik for all her needs. This pleased Amir, as well as worried him, for he could see that Erik would not give the girl up easily, that was for damn sure! This was made clear by the determination in his eyes when he had stated that no one would make her go if she did not wish to. And while that was all good and well, should she indeed wish to stay…what might become of her if she chose to leave? Amir shuddered to think of how Erik would react to _that_ piece of news.

He did not have time to contemplate things further, however, for at that moment an intensely enraged Erik reentered the parlor. Amir was given no chance to speak a word in his defense before the furious black shadow had him up against the wall, his hand at his throat.

"How dare you come down here and upset her like that!" Erik hissed through clenched teeth. "You will _never _make her cry again!"

"I…I am sorry, Erik!" Amir gasped, his fingers digging at the gloved hands around his neck as he tried to free himself, yet it was no use. His grip was like iron and the more Amir struggled the tighter he squeezed, causing the Persian to at last give up and remain still. "I…was only trying…to help."

"Well stop! She does not need _your_ help. Erik will take care of her! Only Erik!" he growled, his masked face mere inches from that of his victim.

"Erik…listen to what…you are saying!" Amir said between gasps for air, unnerved by the man's use of his own name as if he were not speaking of one in the same. "You are referring to yourself…in the third person again! You are obsessed with the girl…and it is…causing you to become…unstable."

Unstable or not, Erik was now happily contemplating the Persian's death. He would make it memorable, something befitting the man he had known for so long. He had an array of weapons and techniques he could employ to get the job done, the only question remaining was - would he make it quick…or drawn out? Yet, this brought up another thought: would the man be the brave sort in the face of death and keep his fear inside, or would he scream? Erik frowned at this, deciding that if he did scream it would more than likely wake Christine, not to mention hurt his sensitive ears. For this reason alone Erik stepped back and released Amir's neck, throwing him to the floor. Besides, once the Persian had stopped struggling, he had taken all the fun out of trying to kill him.

"Erik, please," Amir pleaded, now lying on the floor as he drank in the life giving air once more unhindered. "You can't keep her here…like some prisoner…you have to be willing to let her go."

"She is not a prisoner! Erik would…_I_ would never do that!" he continued to fume, pacing back and forth as he tried to calm his temper. "When I found her she was near death with a serious head wound that had left her blind. _BLIND_, Amir! Can you not see how she was made to be my companion? And she _needs_ me…she speaks with me, and for the love of God, Daroga, she smiles at me! You have no idea how that feels…to see a woman smile at you and not run away or scream. It is a miracle I tell you…nothing short of a miracle."

Amir sat there and just stared at Erik, as if seeing the man for the first time…really _seeing_ him. Yes, he was tall, intimidating, dangerous and beneath the mask...well, he was not very handsome, to put it mildly. Yet as he watched Erik pace back and forth, his fingers raking through his hair in frustration, the Persian could have sworn he looked…_scared_! Utterly terrified that someone would take the girl away, and with her, all his happiness. Amir might be a former chief of police, Erik's keeper and conscience - living in constant fear for his life because of it - but he was _not_ cruel. He could not bring Erik to his knees like that, not when it appeared he had done nothing wrong and the girl had begged to be left in his care. Oh, if only the poor thing knew what she was asking…and what her innocent presence was doing to the masked man before him. Amir could only pray that he would not live to regret his decision.

"I…I will not require that she leave here…or you," he said at last, still rubbing his sore neck. _Damn but that man had one hell of a grip!_ "She may remain down here if that be her wish…for now."

Erik ceased his pacing and stared down at Amir with a mixture of hope and surprise. He had not expected the Persian to give in that easily…or was there a catch?

"However," Amir continued.

"I knew it! I knew you would demand conditions!" Erik fumed, throwing his hands up in the air in annoyance. "So what are they? What must I do in order to gain your good graces on this matter? Meet with you now twice a week; grovel at your feet…cut off my right arm? What?"

"Calm down, Erik," Amir huffed, rising off the floor and straightening his jacket. "I only request that you allow me to check up on her from time to time, to make sure her wishes have not changed. I could be of assistance to you as well this way; be your eyes and ears aboveground where she is concerned. Do you know much about her, where she comes from, if she has any family?"

Erik was quiet for a moment. This had not occurred to him and the more he thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. The Daroga was rather good at spying and snooping, he had proved that by arriving at his door in one piece. Now whether he left in that same condition was still up for debate. Still, Erik did want to know more about Christine, and the Persian could certainly help with that.

"I know a little…she is rather secretive about her past. I do not even know her last name," he confessed.

"Well, it would appear that you two were made for each other," Amir laughed, feeling much safer now that Erik had calmed down. "Is there nothing you can tell me though, after all, you have lived with her for almost two weeks? Anything?"

"She hails from Sweden. She has spoken of her parents but I have yet to ascertain if they are alive or dead, though she claims that there is no one for me to notify of her condition or whereabouts. She was an employee on the barge, not a guest, and I get the impression she has not been in Paris very long. Oh…and she is almost twenty-one." Not a very long list of facts for a man who was already so attached to the girl. Yet facts did not matter to him as much as making her happy, seeing her smile and hearing her laugh. No…those were what mattered most.

"Then it looks like I have my work cut out for me," Amir nodded, ticking off the information in his mind and filing it away. "I will make some discreet inquiries, alerting no one to the reason for my interest. I will not give her, or you, away. I promise."

"If so…then I suppose I will allow you to live another day, Daroga," Erik agreed, wondering if Amir realized just how close he had truly come to ending his life just now.

"I appreciate that," Amir nodded, giving a nervous laugh, before becoming deadly serious once again. "But Erik…I will warn you. I intend to come back and check on her regularly. And if I find that she is not happy or has been harmed in any way, I will do everything in my power to remove her from your keeping. Even if I have to bring all the Gendarmes in Paris down upon your head. It is one thing to overlook some harmless pranks or a bit of extortion, but I will not tolerate any misconduct where this young girl is concerned, do you understand?"

"I do not take well to threats, Daroga," Erik informed him, giving him a tempered glare. "And do you honestly believe that if I wished to hide her from you, I could not do so quite easily? If Erik wants something to disappear, _no one_ will ever see it again." And as if to prove his point, Erik casually held up a gold pocket watch, dangling from a chain.

"My watch!" Amir shouted, reaching out and snatching it back. He quickly opened it up and raised it to his ear to make sure it was still in working order. "Erik, this girl is not some bauble you can just take and keep under lock and key. She is a human being! You can't own another person."

"Try telling that to the gypsies…or the Shah!" Erik growled, his temper flaring once more. "They seemed to think they had the power to own _me!_ Ah, but there is the flaw…_they_ did not see me as a human being, did they? No, to them I was a tool, an object…_a thing_." As quickly as his anger had come upon him, it vanished, causing Erik to look away in pain. "No, Amir…I…I would never do that to _her_. I would slit my own throat before I treated her as they did me. Christine will be here when you come to visit. I will not keep her against her will and she shall never know a moment's fear from me. I swear it!"

"I believe you," Amir nodded. He had only learned a bit of Erik's tragic history with the gypsies, but he knew far too well what the man had endured under the domination of the Shah. He had suffered greatly in his life and maybe it was that pain which allowed him to forge such a sympathetic bond with the girl? From the look in his eyes, it was easy to tell that Erik meant every word, he would never harm Christine, of_ that _the Persian was certain. "Then I will go and leave you two alone. I will return when I have news, but if you need anything else, do not hesitate to send word. Now that I know the way, it should not take me very long to get back."

"Just be careful," Erik warned, a sly grin spreading across his lips. "Next time you might end up losing your foot to one of my traps, instead of just getting it wet."

"Why must you make everything so difficult?" Amir huffed as he headed for the front door. "And you might consider purchasing a welcome mat, it was darn near impossible for me to locate your blasted door!"

"Helps to deter unwanted guests…_usually_," Erik said with a shrug, pressing some hidden switch and watching the door open, revealing the caverns outside. "Do be careful on your way back up, I would hate having to leave Christine alone in order to drag your cold, dead body from one of my traps and dispose of you."

"You are all heart, Erik," Amir sighed, shaking his head as he headed out, expertly retracing his steps on his way back to the surface.

When Amir was finally out of sight, Erik shut the door and headed back to Christine's room, peeking in to make sure she was still asleep. Certain that she was resting comfortably, he set about making dinner, using some of the new foodstuffs he had acquired from Victor. It occurred to him that it was too much of a coincidence that the Daroga had arrived right after he went to pick up the supplies, deciding that his young assistant must have been an accomplice in this plan, allowing the Persian to follow him down to his secret lair. He probably should have been furious, but it really didn't matter either way, and since Erik had been gracious enough to spare Amir's life for his trespasses this day…he might as well do the same for Victor. Yet, if it should ever happen again, he would _personally_ see that the young man was severely punished for his act of betrayal_._

Once dinner was ready he loaded it up on a tray to take in to Christine; however, this time he was pretty sure the meal would be consumed and not thrown against the wall. Or at least he hoped so… he did not wish to lose any more of his good china to her unexpected fits of temper.

When he knocked softly on the door and peeked inside he found that she was already sitting up in bed, her knees pulled to her chest and her bowed head resting upon them. She looked up as he entered and did her best to wipe away the evidence of her latest tears, yet it was only obvious she had been crying for quite a while. Erik was becoming frustrated by her sorrow and needed to know the cause or soon it would drive him mad. So setting her dinner tray on the nightstand, he pulled a chair up next to her bed and sat down, perching on the edge so as to be as close as possible to the weeping girl.

"Christine, I want you to listen to me," he began, his gloved hands itching to reach out and comfort her…yet he dared not. "I promise that you are safe here, that no one will make you leave if you do not wish to go, but you must trust me and confide in me why you do not want to return to your home…to your life."

Christine's tears had been reduced to a few loud sniffs as she tried to stifle her display of grief, but at Erik's final question she fell apart again, covering her face with her hands as she turned away in shame.

"I…I have no life!" she informed him when she was able to draw air. "I have nothing to go back to! No home, no friends…or any family in Paris. I…I am all alone!"

"Christine…that cannot be true," Erik said in disbelief. How could a beautiful girl like her claim to be alone…it was not possible. Was every man in France blind and stupid? "What about your parents? Are they still alive, or have they passed on?"

"No…they are still alive," she told him, her voice taking on an almost plaintive whine. "They are back in Sweden…but I…I can never go back there now!"

Erik was not sure if he was pleased to hear they lived or not. It was good to think that she had family to look after her, yet he had rather enjoyed the idea that he alone was responsible for her care.

"Why is that? Why can you never go back?" Erik pressed.

"When I was little…they told me over and over again how I was special…that my mother believed that she could never have a child…yet suddenly, there I was, their little miracle," Christine explained, lifting her head as she told her tale. "They truly are the best parents ever, yet if I stayed in Sweden, I knew I would never become who I wanted to be…able to live my own life and follow my dreams. I know they only want what is best for me, but I need to be the one to choose what that is…only me. So I convinced them to let me come to Paris to seek that new life…and look where it got me! For a month now I have been desperately trying to make what little money I brought with me last, struggling to afford a dilapidated one room apartment they were about to throw me out of, and the first job I secured since arriving ends up taking away my sight!"

"And you think your parents will fault you for this accident? That they will blame you or shun you for something that was out of your control?" Erik was appalled at the idea.

"No! They would never do such a thing!" she quickly assured him, her eyes anxiously gazing around as she searched for the words to explain herself. "Just the opposite…they would welcome me back with open arms. They would want to take care of me, protect me from harm and never allow me out of their sight again. I love them so dearly, I honestly do, but…but they would smother me with their love and I would never be able to stand on my own two feet again." She then gave a sad laugh and gestured down at herself. "Not that I seem able to do that now…but back home in Sweden…I would never be given another chance to try." She took a shaky breath as she once more tried to calm her tears. "I am afraid to contact them…to let them know what has happened for fear that they will come here and take me back home." She stopped there and gave a heavy sigh. "I am not ready to be their little girl again…I want my liberty, my freedom…_my own life_. My parents raised me to think for myself, to be strong and the last thing I want is to go back to Sweden in disgrace and become a burden on them, forcing them to care for their now invalid daughter who is broken in the eyes of the world."

"I see," Erik nodded, finally understanding the situation the girl now faced. She had been a wild bird spreading her wings, only to be shot from the sky by the cruel arrow of fate. The barge incident had stolen more than her sight from her, it had taken her freedom. No wonder she had felt so desperate, willing to give up on a life that seemed to have given up on her.

"Yet look at me now…I long for my independence and instead I am hiding away in the home of a man I just met and imposing on his good nature! Oh, God, Erik...what must you think of me?" With that she buried her face in her hands once more with a mournful cry.

Erik gave a heavy sigh, mostly born of sympathy, but tinged with irritation at her own critical thoughts of herself. She had nothing at all to be ashamed of, yet she chose to take on the worries of the world.

"Christine…look at me," he instructed, his tone commanding but kind. It took her a moment, but eventually she obeyed, raising her unseeing eyes towards his irresistible voice. Even with her face streaked with tears she was still the most beautiful woman he could possibly imagine and his heart skipped a beat at the thought that he was in the presence of such loveliness. "What I think, is that you are an amazingly brave and resilient young woman who has been through a lot over the past few weeks…maybe even longer," Erik assured her, his voice thick with admiration and understanding. "Paris is a very cruel and unforgiving city and I have seen many young, starry-eyed girls forced to their knees by its harsh treatment. Yet in you, I see a fire…the will to keep going when this world tries to knock you down. You will not give up, Christine, I do not think you were raised that way and I have faith that you will find the courage to soldier on."

"You…you really think so?" she asked, sniffling back her tears.

"I already told you that I am painfully blunt and do not believe in the concept of being diplomatic to spare one's feelings," Erik reminded her, causing her to release a slight laugh. "If I did not believe it…I would not say it."

"Why are you being so nice to me, Erik?" Christine asked suddenly. "You find a girl on your doorstep that you have no ties to and yet you willingly take care of her, feed and clothe her and provide a roof over her head…and still you ask nothing in return. Why?"

Erik's mouth fell open and for a moment he could not answer. Why had he done it? It was not out of pity exactly, for he had known others in more dire straits than Christine and done nothing. Was it guilt? Perhaps he was trying to make amends for all the pain and suffering he had caused during his years in Persia. Yet those explanations fell short when he looked into the curious eyes of the young woman sitting before him and he knew they were not the reasons he was doing this. It was for her…_only for her._

"Maybe I too have been betrayed by life…beat down by the world and I recognized a kindred spirit in you," he said at last, searching for a way to explain what he still did not fully understand himself. "Perhaps I felt the need to help you just as much as you required it of me. For whatever reason…I have no regrets, dear lady."

They sat there in silence for quite some time, Christine wiping her eyes while Erik just stared at her delicate features, as if he were trying to memorize them for all time. Yet when she spoke again, her words caused Erik's heart to sink in his chest.

"While I thank you most sincerely for all you have done for me, your friend was right. I cannot stay with you any longer," she told him in a sad and lost voice. "I have imposed upon your hospitality long enough and I do not wish to trouble you further."

"You have been no imposition!" Erik stated emphatically, anger blazing inside him at Amir for his damned interference.

"Thank you for saying so, but the last thing I want is for my being here to ruin your reputation or cause a scandal," she continued.

This caused Erik to let out a laugh before he could stop himself. _Her_ ruin _his_ reputation? The idea was ludicrous and if anything, it would be the other way around. Not that anyone even knew she was staying with him. Well, there was Amir, and perhaps Victor suspected something, but both could be silenced rather easily if it was required…one way or another.

"I assure you, Christine, you are in no way endangering _my_ good name with your presence," he informed her. "As I have said before, I do not live within the city, I receive very few visitors and unless you wish otherwise, no one except Amir needs to know you are here. He will not say anything or think badly of you due to the living arrangements, he understands the uniqueness of the situation and I trust him to be the epitome of discretion." And if he wasn't…Erik would happily kill the man himself!

"But what about…" Christine began again in protest, but Erik cut her off.

"Since when do _you_ care what others think?" Erik asked, working desperately to change her mind. "If that were so, you would still be back in Sweden, married to some goat farmer named Sven, barefoot and pregnant with six children playing at your feet." The ridiculous picture Erik had painted of her life made Christine laugh, just as he hoped it would. "Instead you are here in France, making the best of a rather trying situation, and I for one am not going to allow you to give up. You may remain here, with me, until you have fully decided what you plan to do with your life and I will not hear another ridiculous word about you being a burden or an imposition. Do you understand me?"

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they had she nodded resolutely as she gave him a genuine smile.

"I will never be able to repay your kindness, Monsieur," she told him, reaching out and fumbling around until she was able to find his eager hands, taking hold of them and squeezing tightly. "I do not know what I ever did to deserve a guardian angel such as yourself."

_An angel?_ She had called _him_ an angel? And she was touching him! Granted his hands were still encased in his protective gloves, but _she_ had been the one to reach out and initiate the contact. _Her!_ Erik stared mutely at the small and delicate fingers now wrapped around his own, praying that she did not notice the slight tremor running through them. Oh, if only she knew the truth. Would a true angel feel such earthly things as longing and desire? For that is what Erik experienced every time he looked at her, an urgent need to be closer, to hold and touch her…just as she was doing at that very moment. Deep down he knew it was wrong…that he should pull away and not taint her with his vile presence…but he simply could not bring himself to do so.

"You…you could repay me by…telling me your last name," he suggested, it being the only harmless thing his wicked mind could conjure at the moment.

Again she blushed and looked down, obviously ashamed of her previous secretive ways.

"Daae…my name is Christine Daae," she told him with a warm smile. "And you, Monsieur Erik? Do you have a surname as well?"

Erik had not spoken his family name out loud in…well, _years!_ For so long he had done all he could to forget his past and upbringing, yet it had never been his father who had treated him harshly…only _her_. So clearing his throat, he offered up the answer to Christine's request proudly, honoring the sire he never knew in the telling.

"Trouville. My last name is Trouville," he answered. "Yet…I would much prefer if you would continue to call me Erik."

"Well, Erik…it would be my pleasure to remain in your home and partake of your gracious hospitality until I can figure out what is to become of me," she told him, squeezing his hands once more in an appreciative gesture.

Erik looked down to where their bodies were currently joined, her small fingers dwarfed by his own, and it made his heart soar. He had never felt such bliss from the mere contact of another human being. The last time he recalled feeling anything close to this was when Anna had showed him such kindness...yet even that paled in comparison to what he was experiencing now.

"What about your family? Will you wish to be contacting them any time soon?" he asked, hoping the answer would be no.

"I am undecided at the moment on how to proceed in their case," she announced, looking a bit unsure. "They should not begin to worry about me just yet, for I mailed them a letter the day before my accident. I will have to make up my mind soon though; before my lack of correspondence causes them to believe something is wrong."

"Just let me know what you decide," he assured her. "But for now, I think you had best eat your dinner before it becomes ice cold." Reluctantly he released her hands and urged her to sit back, placing the tray of food on her lap. "And no throwing it this time, I had a devil of a time getting that soup you wasted out of the rug!"

His scolding tone only caused her to laugh and smile, completely disarming Erik by her entrancing gesture.

"I promise to never treat you, or your offerings, so abominably again, Erik. Not after you have been so kind to me," she assured him.

"It has been my pleasure, Christine."

* * *

**There...look at that, no cliff hanger or anything...**

**So...what did you think of Erik's attempted murder? Amir had it coming! ha ha.**

**And now they have made a truce and are working together to find out all they can about Christine, although I think Erik just got the jump on him from merely asking the girl. ha ha.**

**So now do we understand why Christine is reluctant to leave Erik's home and go back to her old life? What do you think of her assessment of the situation?**

**Erik is only too happy to keep her though...she is his new favorite toy.**

**Hope you enjoyed your bonus chapter...back to the regular schedule of Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays now.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you all so much for your reviews. Keep them coming and Erik promises to let Amir live...maybe.**

**Guest Reviews:**

**Iris:** Nice to have you on board. Binge reading is not good for your health, you know. But I hear stopping and sending in reviews does wonders for you. ha ha. Sure makes ME feel good. ha ha. And sorry for letting Erik end up with the gypsies...but he got away! And I do hope you read the rest of the chapters fast and get caught up so I can respond to you in real time. ha ha.

**Guest:** Glad you liked him taking the watch. Their relationship is an odd one for sure. I imagine that Amir narrowly avoided a trap that would maybe hang him upside down, and in his haste to jump out of the way I bet her landed one foot in the lake...or something along those lines. ha ha. And sorry, you have a while to wait before Erik learns the truth about her parentage.

**Erik'sRose77:** Thanks! What other story did you read of mine? To answer your questions: Yes and Bad - full facial deformity. Thanks for your review!

**Mystery:** I know, he really needs to take a bit of his own advice about being so hard on himself! Oh unexpected things WILL happen, trust me. And yes it could go in sooooo many different directions, I hope you like where I take you. ha ha. Erik attacking Amir speed...yep, THAT IS fast!

**PhantomChristine:** ha ha, yes, Erik does not associate the name Daae with Anna...yet. Erik would never give Amir a moment's notice...why warn him it is coming? You just never know when a bonus chapter will show up. Glad you enjoyed MBTM!

**Guessst:** I think with a treat like that, Amir would not dare to cross Erik...he is afraid of YOU. Yep, Erik is totally in...well...deep like with Christine. ha ha. Maybe even deep, deep like. Give the girl time, I mean after all how could she NOT fall for Mr. Tall, dark and mysterious? And thank you for saying so.

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**Chapter 17**

**Embarrassing Errand**

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The following morning was like the start of a new chapter for Erik and Christine. No longer was she hiding things about her identity or her past, and while he could not say the same, neither was he outright lying to her. He just failed to _mention_ a few things is all. If she asked him directly, he swore that would answer her truthfully…but only _if she asked_.

She had indeed been excited about the new clothes Erik had procured, going on and on about how soft the fabric was and how easy they were to lace up, even without sight. The pleasure he saw on her face was more than enough to cause Erik to completely forgive Victor for his role in the previous day's fiasco, and he even made a mental note to slip a little extra in the lad's pay that month. Amir's name, however, had not yet been completely expunged from his hit list and it did not appear to be happening any time soon, especially when there came another knock on Erik's door that very afternoon.

Christine was busy taking a bath, a process Erik had learned took most of an hour if she chose to wash her hair, luxuriating in the large tub that he had been regrettably banned from using. So when Amir arrived, Erik saw no reason to hide his frustration over the Persian's visit, one he considered far too soon after the first for his liking.

"What the hell brings you back down, Daroga?" Erik growled as he opened the door, fully expecting to see his current tormentor's face….sadly, he was not disappointed.

"Well, that's gratitude for you," Amir huffed, pushing past Erik and letting himself in without an invitation. "Here I bring news – news that _you _asked me to discover, by the way – and you greet me like a beggar and a thief."

"No…a beggar or a thief I would treat much kinder," Erik answered drolly, leading the persistent Persian into the parlor. Soon they were seated, much the same as they had been the previous day, and Erik gave a wicked grin over the fact that the Daroga appeared to be wearing his cravat a bit higher on his neck that usual. It was obvious that he was trying to hide the bruises Erik had left around his neck - a souvenir that would hopefully remind the man to be more respectful of the great and terrible Opera Ghost. Apparently Amir had learned nothing.

"What…no offer of tea this time either?" he asked, sounding a bit hurt.

"The day I serve you tea is the day I hang up my lasso," Erik informed him smugly, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Now…what is your news?"

"Very well," the Persian huffed, not at all happy with the way Erik was treating him. "I did as you asked and was able to learn a few things about your houseguest. Apparently there are four men and three women who remain unaccounted for after the explosion, whom they assume drowned and their bodies were washed downriver, never to be recovered. Yet only one of these ladies bore the first name Christine, followed by the last name Daae. So her full name is Christine Daae."

"I know," Erik said with a satisfied nod.

"You know?" his guest asked in shock. "How?"

"She told me herself, last night after you left," Erik said with a smile.

"Well…do you know that her parents are still alive and living in Sweden?" Amir pressed.

"I do."

"_Damn_!"

"Is there anything _new_ you can tell me that might have made your trip down here worth your effort, and placate my annoyance?" Erik asked, still smiling quite smugly.

"Well…do you know that the Gendarmes have declared Christine legally dead and all her possessions have been boxed up and stored in the evidence locker at the police station?" When Erik's eyes grew wide at this, Amir got a triumphant grin on his face. "Or that they have already sent a letter to her parents, informing them of her untimely demise?"

"No!" came a gasp from the doorway, causing both men to turn suddenly. Christine had managed to sneak in while they were engrossed in their conversation, having just overheard the last announcement.

"Christine," Erik began, rising to his feet as he quickly went to her side. "I did not know you were finished with your bath."

"Erik, my parents can't be informed that I am dead!" she continued, panic rising in her voice. "It would devastate them…I can't put them through that!"

"I am so terribly sorry, Mademoiselle Daae, I did not mean for you to overhear our conversation. I would never have dreamed of dispensing information of this kind in such a blunt and unfeeling manner." Amir assured her, as he too rose to a standing position, as all men should when a lady enters a room. He hoped Erik believed him, for if he upset the poor girl a second time – enough to bring her to tears – then Erik would surely seek to kill him over the offence. "Yet…I am afraid the erroneous letter was sent several days ago."

"Oh, Erik, what am I to do?" Christine cried with grief, placing her hand over her lips to stifle a helpless whimper.

"Do not fret, Christine," Erik began, his quick mind thinking of anything to say that might belay the tears he knew would immediately follow, should she remain in this distressed state. "We could send another letter explaining the mistake…or better yet, a telegram! It would arrive sooner than any letter sent by post, and then they would know to ignore it when it arrived." Erik was rather proud of his idea and became even more so when her look of fear morphed into one of hope.

"You…you could do that?" she asked, never having sent or received a telegram before, as such luxuries were far above her financial means.

"Of course, my dear," Erik assured her. "This world is full of modern marvels and by means of the telegraph, sending a message quickly is now just a few finger taps away."

"And I would be happy to see that it is delivered right away," Amir chimed in, eager to make amends for the part he played in upsetting Christine. "You write down what you wish me to send and I will see that it is done this very day."

Erik quickly broke from her side to fetch some supplies, before guiding her to a small desk and chair in the corner, placing the paper in front of her and the fountain pen in her hand.

"I realize that writing without the aid of sight will be difficult, but I am sure you can manage," he encouraged her.

"What…what should I say?" she asked hesitantly, turning her head to look up at where he stood, eager for his advice.

"Whatever you wish to tell them. I would begin with the fact that you are alive…and let things progress from there," Erik suggested.

She gave a nod and turned back to the page, feeling the edges of it for perspective before she began to write. Erik stepped back, offering her some privacy, though knowing he would undoubtedly see what she wrote before having the Daroga send it off. As he waited, he noted out of the corner of his eye that Amir had suddenly become a bit agitated, and when he finally turned to acknowledge the man, he frantically motioned for Erik to come closer. With a sigh, he did so, wondering what had the man in such a snit. When he was within earshot, the Persian began to whisper, ever so quietly so that Christine would not hear.

"Erik…we need to speak…_in private_," he hissed, his eyes wide and anxious.

"Truly?" Erik questioned, not in any mood for the man's overdramatic ways.

"It is of a most imperative nature…I assure you!" Amir insisted, still keeping his voice barely audible.

"Very well," Erik conceded. He then turned back to Christine as she continued to write, then pause in thought, and then write again. "The Daroga and I are just going to step into the kitchen for a moment, my dear," he informed her. "Just speak up when you are finished."

She gave a distracted nod as the two left the room, making their way down the hall and to the left, in search of a more private location to speak. Once there, Erik pulled out a chair from around the small dining table and sat down, leaning back with his arms crossed and his long legs stretched out in front with his ankles crossed.

"What is so all fired important, Daroga?" he asked in exasperation.

"Erik…Christine has been here for what…almost two weeks?" he asked, looking a bit flustered.

"Yes, give or take a day…why?"

"Well…I was just thinking," Amir began.

"You should leave that to those much more suited to the task, Daroga," Erik replied drolly, a small grin sneaking out when the Persian glared at him coldly.

"As I was saying, have you given any thought to how…well, I mean…what a woman must endure…at…um…a certain time of the month…if you get my meaning?" he finally spit out, his face turning a deep shade of red.

Erik sat there and sternly stared at Amir, completely oblivious to what he was getting at.

"Oh, Allah…must I spell this out for you, Erik?" he huffed in perturbation.

"Apparently. For you are making even less sense than usual," Erik quipped.

"And you call yourself a genius!" Amir said with a roll of his eyes.

"Daroga…" Erik warned, his voice telling the man he needed to get to the point quickly or risk not being heard at all.

"Very well, Erik," he said, trying to put on the guise of dignity and calm. "Have you, in your infinite wisdom, made any preparations for Christine's womanly time of the month when she…she is in need of certain…_feminine supplies?"_ He let his last words hang in the air, waiting to see if the light of recognition might settle in before he was forced to continue with more descriptive words. Thankfully, Erik sat up straight in his chair, his eyes growing wide behind his mask and his mouth falling open. Amir took that as a sign that he had gotten through to his thick-headed companion.

"Christine…she…will need…" Erik choked out, his eyes darting in several directions as he contemplated this news.

"I daresay she will…and soon too, if I understand the math of it all," Amir assured him. While he was never one to seek out this type of information, having had his share of lovers over the years had made him painfully aware of such things, whether he wished to be privy to them or not. "I assume you did not ask poor Victor to procure any such supplies on his last two runs?"

"No…I had not even considered the need of these…things," Erik lamented. "Good God, Victor will not be making another delivery till next week! What if she needs them tomorrow…or… tonight?"

"Well then, that _will_ pose a problem, won't it?" the Persian agreed, sitting down in his own chair as he felt the stirrings of pity for the man before him.

Suddenly Erik's head popped up and he stared at Amir with determination.

"Then you will have to procure these items for me…_for her_!" he stated emphatically.

"_I…what?_" Amir sputtered, snapping to attention at Erik's order. "No…no, no, no! I will send the telegram, I will spy, lie and cover for you, but I will _not_ be tricked into doing this kind of dirty work, Erik…NO!"

"Daroga…" Erik began, his tone threatening.

"Don't you dare _Daroga_ me!" Amir fumed, turning away from him in disgust. "I don't care what you do, I will not debase myself by going into such a store and buying those…those things. NO!"

"Then I suppose the poor girl…the poor _blind_ girl…will just have to suffer through another humiliating experience when she is left without the means to care for herself when the need should arise," Erik said in a sad and plaintive tone. "And here I thought you claimed to be a gentleman, Daroga. What a pity that you could not be counted on in her time of need."

Amir sat there, still not looking at Erik as he let his words sink in, first to his head and then into his heart. His face slowly grew to a vibrant shade of red…but this time in anger.

"Damn you, Erik!" he growled, bringing his balled fist down on the table. "You do not fight fair!"

"I never said I did," he agreed with a smile of triumph. "Consider this your penance for making Christine cry yesterday and almost doing so again today with your ill-timed announcement! I cannot think of a more fitting form of torture, and it serves you right!"

"Fine! I will do it," he huffed in defeat, "though I do not know how."

"You could ask Sorelli to gather them?" Erik suggested quickly.

"Like hell I will!" he barked, shock reflecting in his eyes. "I am rather enjoying my time with the opera's lead ballet dancer…I do not wish to ruin it by asking her to do such a thing for me!"

"You see nothing wrong with pumping the woman for information about my exploits, but refuse to ask her to buy you supplies? Your scruples are all messed up!" Erik accused.

"Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black!" he accused. "Besides, when Monique and I talk about you, she merely thinks me curious. Yet were I to ask her to buy me such items, she would believe I had some other woman on the side, and there would go any hope of ever seeing the inside of her boudoir again! Can you just imagine the look on her face were I to even mention such a delicate thing, let alone ask her to procure supplies for it…_for me_?"

Erik began to chuckle softly to himself; despite the lunacy of the situation, he could only imagine the expression Sorelli might give the man, assured that it would be rather comical in nature.

"You could ask Darius?" Erik further suggested.

"I would hate to see him quit over such a request," Amir said with a shake of his head. "He has been with me far too long to lose his good services. No…I will ask the woman who comes in to clean my house a few days a week. She is quite advanced in age, so I doubt anything will shock her at this stage in life. And if I throw in a few extra francs for her services, hopefully she will not look at me too scandalously. Maybe she will think they are a gift for Monique…a very odd and unseemly gift I might add!"

"I care not how you do it, Daroga," Erik finished, standing up and declaring the subject closed. "Just make sure they are here by noon tomorrow! No later! I refuse to be caught unprepared where Christine's needs are concerned."

Amir sat there and looked up at Erik for a few seconds, studying the man he had long ago thought he had figured out. _That_ man had been alone, volatile and completely devoid of emotions. However, the one before him now was anything but! Had that delightful young girl in the other room truly changed him so much? If Amir didn't know any better, and he thought he did, he would say that Erik was showing signs of being enamored, infatuated..._in love_? Could it be? No…not Erik. Yet, stranger things had happened and was it not just yesterday he had imagined that the masked man had kidnapped a woman and was holding her prisoner down here in his subterranean home? That too had proved just as ridiculous, so why not believe him capable of love as well?

"Erik…what exactly do the two of you _do_ down here all alone every day?" he asked suddenly, unaware of how accusatory it sounded until the words were out of his mouth.

"What?" Erik gasped, looking down at the man through narrowed slits. "What are you implying, you cad! I would never take advantage of the poor girl in that…" he began to fume, before Amir held up his hands in protest.

"No, no…that is _not _what I meant!" he assured him. "I should have asked, what types of activities have you set up for Christine? Certainly you do not simply allow her sit around all day and merely listen to you talk…do you?"

When Erik opened his mouth, but no words came out, Amir had his answer.

"You do!" he accused. "Merciful Allah, Erik, she is not some kind of pet! You must teach her to do for herself, give the girl back a sense of independence and self-worth. It is not enough that you simply feed and clothe her and take her for the occasional walk!"

"She is blind! What am I_ supposed_ to do with her?" Erik growled, then once again lowering his tone as he glanced towards the door, praying she was not overhearing their discussion this time.

"_You_ are supposed to be the genius! _Ask_ her what she likes to do. Just because she has lost her eyesight does not mean she does not get bored." He tapped his finger against his chin for a moment, thinking of activities to suggest. "How about knitting, or sewing…though a sharp needle might prove dangerous. Or perhaps sculpting or painting."

"Painting?" Erik asked skeptically.

"I once saw a fascinating piece on display at a museum that claimed the artist responsible was blind since birth," he stated in justification of himself. "Perhaps she has some hidden talent. Allow her to explore her options, do not treat her as if she is now broken and useless…the world up there will do enough of that in time."

"I see your point," Erik agreed, not liking the idea that the Daroga had perhaps been correct. "I will look into finding things to busy her hands and mind."

"Excellent…now, let us return to the parlor and see what message I am to send to her family," Amir recommended.

.

.

Christine had indeed just finished her letter when the two men reentered the room. She quickly handed it to Erik, asking him if she had written clearly or if half of her words were now scrawled across the desk and not the paper at all. He chuckled slightly and assured her that she had remained on the page, yet that did not stop his eyes from darting anxiously towards his desk to guarantee that the fine wood surface remained free of ink stains. Blessedly it was.

"Dearest Father and Mother," Erik began, reading Christine's slanted and partially illegible words at her bidding, having asked for his and Amir's opinion on what she had written. Erik would have rather read it to himself alone, seeing as how Amir's thought on the subject hardly mattered. Yet he figured the man would just read it later anyway, since he was the one assigned to send the telegram. "If you receive any messages telling you I have met with some unfortunate accident, please do not believe a word. There was a terrible mix-up and a case of mistaken identity. I will explain more in my next letter. For now please be assured I am alive, in good health and safe. With all my love, Christine."

"That seems…well…concise and to the point," Amir mused, giving Erik a quizzical look.

"Do you not wish to send more?" Erik asked, a bit perplexed. He noted that she did not say anything about being happy, causing his brows beneath his mask to knit together in concern. "You need not worry over the cost per word. You could forward them an entire book and I would not care."

"No…that is all I wish to say," she assured him meekly, lowering her eyes to the floor.

"I see," Erik nodded, knowing not to push further. It was apparent that she did not wish to broach the subject of her blindness just yet and he would not insist that she do so. Handing the paper to Amir, he shook his head sternly, signaling the man to not speak another word about it.

"Very well, Mademoiselle Daae," Amir agreed, putting on a lighthearted air. "I will see that your communication is sent immediately. I do apologize that I was unable to retrieve your belongings from your apartment before they were confiscated. If you had said something earlier I am sure we could have rescued them."

"No…I fear that the landlord would have had them boxed up and under lock and key the day after I went missing," she said with a sad sigh. "He had given me until the morning of the following day to get him the rent money I owed or I was to be thrown out, and what little I did own sold to cover my bill. I had planned on paying him with the earnings I received that evening from working on the barge…but as you know, that did not turn out quite like I planned. I knew the moment I woke up the following day that all my belongings were gone. I have come to accept that, but thank you for your concern."

This bit of news seemed to irritate Erik even more than usual and after allowing Amir to say his final farewells, he left Christine in the parlor as he offered to escort their guest to the door. Once they were outside, and the door shut behind, Erik took Amir by the arm to halt his departure.

"Here," Erik said, holding out a handful of francs to the Persian.

"What is this for?" he asked skeptically, eyeing the money as if it might bite him.

"For the telegram of course, you idiot," Erik replied, a bit exasperated. "What did you think it was? A bribe, or some hush-money that would offend your delicate sensibilities?"

"Well…." Amir began, turning a bit red.

"For pity sake, just take the damn francs," he said with a roll of his eyes, shoving the wad into the man's jacket pocket before he could refuse. "I added in some extra for those supplies as well. Just don't you dare forget."

"How on earth could I?" Amir admitted, looking completely mortified.

"Oh, and one more thing…I want you to get Christine's possessions out of lock up," he insisted.

"What?" Amir gaped, pulling back in shock. "How? She is presumed dead and I in no way could pass for her next of kin. Do you think they believe the girl to be of Persian descent with a name like Christine Daae?"

"You are the one always claiming to have connections in this town…use them!" Erik growled, not wishing to hear any words of defeat. "I don't care how you do it, but if there are any keepsakes or mementos she deemed important enough to bring with her from Sweden…then I want her to have them back!" Unwanted images of a small paper swan being ground into the mud beneath the heel of a boot flashed into Erik's mind, making him flinch and turn away. It had been years since he had thought of that and it surprised him with how much the memory still hurt.

"Damn you, Erik…is there no end to your list of unreasonable demands?" he huffed, giving in.

"You are the one who asked what you could do to help the girl. _So help_!" Erik commanded, giving him a bit of a shove in the direction of the tunnels.

"You will be the death of me yet, Erik!" Amir grumbled as he made his way into the dark.

"We can only hope!" Erik shouted over his shoulder as he headed back inside, chuckling to himself over his apparent victory.

.

.

"Do you think they will receive the telegram in time?" Christine asked as Erik entered the parlor.

"I have faith they shall…and if not, it will arrive quickly on the heels of the incorrect letter. Thus offering your parents the needed assurance that you have not left this world, as the French police now suspect," he told her. "You have done all you can to assuage their worry, short of showing up on their doorstep."

"Oh, yes, and wouldn't that just be a lovely surprise?" she scoffed, her mouth turning downward in a frown. "Hello, Mother…hello, Father, I am home from Paris and look…I am blind and helpless!"

"Christine, you must not speak that way," Erik insisted, his voice taking on a scolding tone. "Your lack of eyesight does not define you or your future prospects…you alone have that privilege. Do not let it beat you, you are stronger than that."

"But what if I am not?" she asked meekly. "What if I am destined to be…useless?"

"Then we must find your use," Erik told her firmly, deciding that the Persian's words could not have been more timely. "There are many things in this world that a blind person can do, things that bring them joy, satisfaction and self-worth. It is not the end of your life…just the beginning of a completely different one. One that I will be delighted to help you discover."

"How?" Christine questioned.

"To start…you will begin by telling me all the things you enjoy doing and then we will see about providing you the means to pursue them. From there we can ascertain which one will become your new passion," he told her matter-of-factly.

"I…I would enjoy that very much. Thank you, Erik," she assured him, reaching out her hand as he took it and led her to the couch.

They spent the next half an hour poring over ideas as Erik wrote down all the suggestions they came up with - including a few of his own which he kept to himself as a surprise. He would add them to the list of things for Victor to bring the following week, figuring the young man would be far less embarrassed over these acquisitions than the previous ones. He only hoped that Amir would come through with his own assignment…for the last thing Erik desired was to be forced to make a midnight run for such supplies himself! Even if it meant breaking into a store when there was no one around to see, he doubted even the ominous Opera Ghost could handle such a caper…_and not be forced to die of embarrassment!_

* * *

**OH my goodness...no cliff hanger here either! I must be off my game. ha ha.**

**So, how did you like Amir's visit this time. Poor man, he was so excited to share his news and Erik just shot him down.**

**And how smart was Erik to think of the telegram idea? Think it will work?**

**OH dear, Amir just got his marching orders and he is not happy about it. Oh, how embarrassing for him!**

**Wonder what they will find to do - to give Christine a new purpose in life?**

**You will find out on Wednesday!**


	18. Chapter 18

**I know you all wanted Erik to suggest singing to Christine, or for her to suggest it herself. But, she is still not in a happy place where singing is concerned. You see, she feels as if singing, as her career, has been stripped away from her and right now it is the last thing she wants to do since it makes her sad.**

** BUT...she will sing, Erik will be jaw droppingly amazed and it will be such fun...just LATER. ha ha.**

**.**

**Guest Reviews:**

**IrisV:** You MIGHT be the Iris I was already responding to...if not, then I would be happy to start doing so now. Christine has needs for sure, a need for freedom, for liberty, to do for herself...and I think later she will have a NEED for Erik too. ha ha. Anna and Charles were overprotective parents...so of course they spoiled her somewhat. ha ha. Protective Erik is the BEST! Thanks...but I am all done typing. The story is completely finished being written.

**syrianlight:** Yes, it did go almost like you said. We all hope the telegram works. I agree, why are men so embarrassed? It is not like the cashier thinks they are buying them for THEMSELVES. ha ha. yah...sorry about the singing guess...that would be a no.

**PhantomChristine:** I think men are less weird about it now, than back then...but what do I know, I am not THAT old. ha ha. Glad I made you laugh! You will just have to see how Erik handles telling her about them. ha ha.

**EC4ever:** Oh I am sure Erik will hold off killing Amir...he would miss sparing with him too much if he did. And of course he loooooves her...they both just need to realize it. Erik has lightening speed when dealing out threats...especially to the Daroga. ha ha. chapter 17 made you laugh, did it? Hope you find this one just as amusing.

**Mystery:** Not as mortified as the boys would be KNOWING that she overheard them talkig about her monthly time, ah ha. OH yes, if only this were made into a movie and we COULD see Erik's face...well, so to speak. ha ha. Oh what an interesting theory...can't wait to see if you are right or not. (oh wait...I already know, ha ha)

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**Be sure to check out the contest at the end of the chapter!**

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**Chapter 18**

**Seven Days of Wonder**

* * *

On each of the next seven days Erik decided to pose a new activity for Christine. The first morning he went above while she still slept and posted his letter to Victor, detailing his new list of supplies and requesting that he deliver them as quickly as possible. While he was there, he made his way to Box Five to pick up his monthly salary, paid to him quite begrudgingly by the two managers, Messieurs Debienne and Poligny. Neither one was a mental giant and the Ghost's apparent superior knowledge of how the opera should be run, coupled with the threat of some accident or another, made them too afraid to refuse his monetary demands. It appeared that the plans for the festival were right on schedule, and from what he was able to overhear, as he passed through the secret tunnels, dozens of singers from far and wide were signed up and were auditioning daily to participate in the contest that would be held in a little over two months' time. While Erik would have liked to have sat in on a few of these preliminary interviews that morning, he did not wish to abandon Christine any longer than necessary and figured he could leave the weeding out of the truly horrendous ones to the somewhat discerning ear of Monsieur Reyer, the music director. He had proven himself capable of spotting true talent on several occasions and Erik felt confident that he would not allow any screeching biddies in among the final pick. Thus, Erik could rest assured that very soon, the Paris Opera House would have its new lead soprano.

Perhaps Erik should have felt a bit guilty for having insisted on the dismissal of the previous lead singer, but if he allowed her to stay for another season, it would have begun to seriously affect the proceeds. And with so many artists and workers depending on their jobs in order to live, it was imperative that the opera house remain at its professional best. Thus that squawking woman, Carlotta Gutielli, whom they had been forced to hire last season, simply _had_ to go! She had apparently been the lover of one of their most solvent patrons and while Erik understood that the two managers had been placed between a rock and a hard spot – Erik being the rock in this scenario – he had been steadfastly against her being hired. Still, he had given her a fair chance, _he really had_! Yet Carlotta would not take direction, was unwilling to better herself in any fashion and was completely unreasonable with her demands. So, in the end, Erik felt compelled to relieve her of her position…forcibly!

It only took one or two well-placed pranks and few threatening letters written in blood red ink, and signed by the frightening O.G., before she left in near hysterics; causing her to run from the building, swearing never to return. Perhaps it was due to this that they were now left unable to find any decent talent to take her place, as well as the fact that her lover and patron had pulled his support. Yes, it would take some doing, however, Erik was determined to see that not only a new diva was installed before the beginning of the season, but a new rich patron as well. After all…_his_ salary must be paid and this festival had the potential of netting him exactly what he needed.

Before heading back down, Erik stopped by the art department at the opera house and liberated a few supplies. While their absence would undoubtedly be noticed, he knew they would not truly be missed.

.

.

After breakfast Erik presented Christine with the first of the possible activities she might enjoy. Painting. Christine was just as skeptical as Erik had been when Amir suggested this form of art, for how could she even know what she was doing, she had asked.

"I suppose you are to create what you feel…or perhaps _how_ you feel?" Erik told her, still unsure himself. "I have arranged the paints around your palette in the order of the rainbow, beginning with white at twelve o'clock, going through the colors and ending with black at eleven o'clock. Much like your dinner plate. If you need help cleaning the brushes or locating a specific color…you have but to ask."

"This is ridiculous," she huffed, sitting there with the palette in her left hand and a brush in her right. "Anything I paint will surely be a disaster beyond your imagination."

"With that attitude I am sure it will," he pointed out sternly. "The least you can do is give it a chance."

"I am sorry, you are right," she apologized, shame filling her voice. "Paint what I _feel,_ you say? I hope you put enough black on here then."

"Christine," Erik warned, becoming rather tired of her constant negative attitude where her abilities were concerned.

"Fine, I will try," she huffed, reaching out to feel the blank canvas he had set up in front of her, preparing for the worst.

.

.

By the time Amir arrived with those dreaded supplies, as promised, Christine had almost covered the entire canvas with paint. Her choice and placement of colors was…well, _interesting_ to say the least. It left the poor Persian, who was already at his wit's end due to his specific delivery, searching for words to describe what he was looking at.

"Well…that is…quite the painting, Mademoiselle Daae," he said at last, having tipped his head to both sides in hopes of seeing some pattern or scene in the conglomeration of strokes before him.

Apparently his attempt at encouraging words did not match his tone, yet thankfully this caused Christine to burst out in laughter and not the much dreaded tears this time.

"Oh, Monsieur, you do not have to lie to spare my feelings. I am fairly certain that you have never seen anything like it before, and hopefully will never be forced to do so again," she giggled, brushing her cheek with the back of her hand, unknowingly smearing a spot of green across her skin.

"Nonsense!" Erik quickly spoke up, eager to defend her first attempt at finding her new path. "I think it is a wonderful…_attempt_. I would consider it a privilege to hang it on the wall, directly above the fireplace for all to see." Granted no one but Amir ever came down to his home, so the chances of anyone ever seeing it was slim to none, but it was the thought that counted…_right_?

Amir turned and stared at the delightful scene of a Tuscan village that hung in the place of honor and wondered if Erik truly meant what he said. And if so…perhaps he might ask if he could have the painting that was to be replaced for himself. It would look rather nice in his parlor and after the embarrassment he had been put through over asking his cleaning lady to pick up Christine's necessities, he rather thought he deserved it. Later, when Erik privately questioned him about the amount he had procured, Amir explained that he had directed the suspicious old woman to buy several months' worth just so that he would not have to go through this again for some time….hopefully never again!

The three spent some time talking, mostly about art, before Amir announced that it was time he should depart. Christine acted a bit sad to see him go, but he got no such feelings from Erik. However, he was rather pleased when he was allowed to leave with the lovely Tuscan painting in hand…yes indeed, it would look just wonderful in his parlor.

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On day two, it was sculpting.

At first Christine was timid, not sure what to do or if she even liked the feel of the clay between her fingers, but with some encouragement from Erik, she soon began to let her hands create something her eyes could not see.

While she worked Erik did his best to remain quiet, attempting to compose by only striking the keys when absolutely necessary in order to decide if a note was correct in the place he had written it. His mind was very distracted though, watching her small hands gliding over the lump of grey material as a form began to take shape. He was mesmerized by those fingers, gently pushing or stroking, smoothing out lines and creating new ones. There was nothing he would not have given to have those very hands working so innocently on him, smoothing out his own horrific scars and deformities, building for him a new shape and texture. To feel such a thing would be heaven…yet to desire it was to court hell. Shaking his head for at least the tenth time, he struggled to concentrate on something else besides her…anything but her_ hands_!

"Erik," she asked, not long into her sculpting. "Do you have any family?"

"Family?" he asked, having to tear his mind off of her tempting fingers once more to focus on her question. "Are we back to our little game of questions?"

"If that is what it will take to win an answer from you, then yes," she smiled, turning her head towards where he sat.

"Very well…no, I have no family," he responded.

"None at all?" This seemed to confuse her. "No brothers or sisters, an uncle or a distant cousin?"

"Not that I am aware of," he assured her. "My parents are both dead and I was never informed of any relatives, distant or otherwise." Erik frowned at his answer, for if pushed to the wall, he would have to admit that he honestly did not know if his mother was now dead as he claimed. He had never sought to find out what had become of her, but in his mind his mother had ceased to exist the day he left that attic prison…the day he had gone in search of Anna. He had also figured out the man who came to see him every six months had been his grandfather but by all accounts he was certainly deceased by now as well, and he felt just as much kinship to him as he had to Suzette…_none._ Clearing his mind of such unwanted thoughts, he pressed for his answer in return. "And you Christine…have you any family to speak of?"

"You know I do," she smiled, realizing that she had chosen the perfect question for their game, since she had not been required to divulge anything new in compensation. "My father and my mother."

"No one else? No siblings or distant cousins in your family tree?" Erik pressed, rather upset at her tricky ways.

"No…none that I am aware of," she giggled, using his own words on him.

"Hmmmm," he hummed back, not at all liking how she had played him in order to glean answers without having to give up anything herself. He would have to watch her.

It took the rest of the day, with pauses for lunch, a nap and then dinner before Christine felt her sculpture was finished. While _she_ decided it was nothing more than a twisted mass of shapes, angles and protrusions, Erik had declared it a masterpiece. He swore he would have it taken to a shop where such things were fired and glazed – in truth back upstairs to the opera art department - and it too would hold a place of honor in the parlor. While Christine admitted that the activity had been enjoyable and at least she could _feel_ what she created this time, it was not something she could see herself doing as a career. That and she had the feeling Erik was far more complimentary than her creations truly deserved.

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Day three brought the early delivery of supplies from Victor and thus Christine was presented with a brand new set of sewing supplies.

"What shall I sew?" she asked, as Erik handed her a needle he had just expertly threaded.

"I suppose you could try mending things or patching holes?" he offered, seeing no way for her to attempt needlepoint or the creation of a dress without the aid of her eyes.

"Do you have anything that requires mending?" she asked hopefully, for all her clothes were brand new, thanks to Erik, and in no need of repairs.

"I…I might," he told her looking around almost in panic. Here he had offered her this activity and was suddenly unable to provide her with any use for it. Excusing himself he hurried to his room and began to rummage through his wardrobe. _Nothing_! None of his clothing was in need of repairs. Erik was very fastidious with his appearance and would not suffer to have a missing button or a hole in his sock. Still…Christine needed _something_ to fix.

Minutes later Erik reappeared with an armload of shirts that had small tears and ripped seams, along with at least half a dozen socks that now sported holes in the toes or heel. _This should keep her busy for a while and allow her to determine if she enjoys this activity, _Erik thought with pride.

While she worked, Christine once more initiated the question game, choosing her query very carefully yet again.

"You said you were born in France, but where else have you lived over the years, Erik?" she asked as she stitched.

"Well now…that would be quite a few places indeed," he muttered, leaning back in the chair he had been sitting in at his desk. "I have traveled extensively throughout Europe, parts of Asia, the Middle East and Russia. Yet I can only claim to have taken up residence in a few of them and then only temporarily."

"Is France to be only temporary as well?" she pressed.

"I admit to having no plans at this time of abandoning my current domicile," Erik answered truthfully, for he could not even imagine leaving the opera house or his cozy little underground home.

"Is that where you met Monsieur Amir…while you were traveling in the Middle East?" she guessed.

"Yes…that unfortunate acquaintance was one of the byproducts of my interminably long stay in Persia," Erik responded with a sour tone. "It was during my time in that accursed land that I gained him as an unwanted associate…much as one might pick up an infestation of fleas from a mangy dog."

This caused Christine to begin to laugh, something one should not do when holding a sharp needle near their finger. Her merriment quickly turned to a cry of pain, followed by the insertion of her perforated digit into her mouth. Erik was at her side instantly, his hands once more hovering anxiously…yet not daring to touch.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes searching for any sign of injury, yet she appeared to be hiding her only wound within the confines of her lovely pink lips.

"Yes…I just pricked my finger a bit," she admitted, holding out the offending finger for him to see. A tiny bead of red blood formed on the tip of the index finger of her left hand.

"Allow me to bandage it for you, my dear," he offered, sprinting off to fetch his medical supplies…something he had been using a lot of since she had arrived.

"Do you think I shall fall asleep for a hundred years now?" she asked in a teasing fashion, once he had returned, kneeling down in front of her as he tended to her minor wound.

"Pardon?" Erik looked up at her as if she had lost her mind.

"The story of the sleeping princess by the Brothers Grimm? My father would often read it to me before bed," she explained, as he wound a small strip of cloth around her injury. "The princess pricked her finger on a spinning wheel and fell into an enchanted sleep for a hundred years, only to be awakened by love's first kiss."

At her words, and the wistful tone she spoke them in, Erik's fingers stilled and he knelt there, motionless as he gazed at her in wonder. He had never heard the story, for children's tales were not something he had ever been exposed to. Yet suddenly he felt the burning need to read this particular one…_about a sleeping princess and a kiss_. Erik had often wondered what a kiss would feel like. Oh, he knew how it had felt when Anna had kissed his forehead, a truly wonderful experience indeed, yet as an adult he now wished to know more about this amazing thing. He had seen many people kiss before, well if truth be told, he had seen quite a bit _more_ than just kissing in Persia. For there, the body, and the intimate things done with it, were not as taboo as they were here in formalistic France. Many times in his occupation as spy and assassin he had stumbled upon lovers in the throes of passion, their sweaty bodies entwined in a secret dance that Erik had forever been denied a partner. It angered him to see other men take so easily what he could only dream of. And after the first few times of watching – purely for informational purposes – he would turn away and wait to kill whatever unfortunate sod he had been sent to execute, after the man had fully sated himself…and hopefully his companion as well. Erik may have been an assassin, but even he was not so wicked as to kill a man during copulation!

"Erik?" Christine asked, sensing that he had not moved or spoken since her last words. "It was only a joke," she explained, fearing that she had confused him with her story. "I don't actually believe I will magically fall asleep from just the prick of a needle."

"I…I know," Erik assured her, clearing his throat as he bid the thoughts of such carnal activities to leave his mind immediately. "I was just trying to…decide if I have ever heard the story…and I have not."

"Well, I happen to know it by heart," she admitted proudly, pulling back her finger as she felt the bandage with her other hand. "One day perhaps I will tell you the tale for entertainment."

"I would like that very much," he assured her, knowing that any story that came from her sweet lips would be a pleasure to listen to. But then, recalling the game they had been playing before the needle incident, he realized he had failed to ask his own question. "In the meantime, perhaps you would like to answer the same question you posed to me? Where have _you_ lived or traveled in your lifetime, Christine?"

"Oh, right," she agreed, acting as if she had forgotten that it was her turn. "Let's see…I have lived in Sweden, as you know, and France."

"That is it?" Again, Erik felt cheated, having learned nothing more than he already knew.

"Terribly exciting, no?" she laughed as she once more stuck her hand up inside one of his socks and began her delicate job of stitching up the neatly cut hole.

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Day four began the wonderful world of knitting. Erik felt this was going to be an easy project for her, since she claimed to have learned the fundamentals years ago. This seemed to go well and soon Christine had half a potholder made and was feeling rather proud of herself. By the time they were ready to turn in, she had successfully created three of the helpful objects and Erik promised to use them while cooking breakfast the next morning.

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Since the knitting had gone so well the day before, on day five Erik engineered a small table top loom and allowed Christine to try her hand at weaving. It was a very tactile activity, feeling her way as she moved the wool thread in and out, up and down between the parallel strings, tucking them into place and snugging them up to create a tight weave. The first few hours of her work she did not speak once, her mind completely absorbed by her efforts, yet as she became more familiar with the rhythm she again plied Erik with questions.

"Have you ever been married, Erik?" she asked out of the blue.

Erik had been right in the middle of playing back a piece he had just written and while he normally never hit a sour note, her question made his fingers fumble and cause a very unpleasant sound to emanate from the grand organ. It took him a few moments to gather his wits before he could answer her.

"No…I have never…taken a wife," he confessed, his voice feeling rather weak and shaky.

"Really, hmmmm?" she hummed quietly as she continued her work.

"Why do you respond like that?" Erik asked, narrowing his eyes just a bit at her cryptic reply.

"No reason," she said with a shrug. "It just surprises me that you have not." Her head quickly came up from her work, her face appearing anxious. "Not that I, of all people, would ever insinuate that you _should_ be married…meaning it is completely _your_ choice when and if you choose to. I just…well…you have been so kind to me and have done so much, that I find it difficult to imagine that you do not have dozens of women eager to be courted by you."

Erik literally scoffed out loud at the absurdity of the idea, the sound now coming from his lips not unlike the horrid one he had just produced from the organ.

"I fear that you have been, for lack of a better word, blinded to my many and quite severe faults, my dear," Erik replied bitterly, though still bewildered by her ridiculous notion. "I am a confirmed bachelor and far too set in my ways. I am dreadfully antisocial, as the stream of guests through here can attest to, and besides all that, I possess a damnable temper that would rival that of Genghis Khan. I assure you, Christine, your assumptions are quite erroneous."

"Hmmmmm," was all she chose to respond, making Erik feel even more uncomfortable.

"And you?" he asked, eager to shift the attention off of himself. "Have you ever been married?" However, already knowing what her answer would be to that question, Erik quickly amended his inquiry just a bit, hoping that she would not call foul. "Or have you perhaps had a young man _request_ your hand in matrimony?"

Christine stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, her lips pursed together in a look of annoyance, apparently trying to decide if his question was within the boundaries of the game. Yet after a moment she gave a heavy sigh and relented.

"I have been solicited in that manner…yes," she replied uneasily. "I…I just did not feel able to respond in such a way that would have pleased them."

"For you did not wish to be tied down just yet," Erik stated, recalling her reasoning from before. Once more he felt that little surge of happiness flare up over that fact. "You longed for liberty more than the idea of a husband and a family."

"That may have had something to do with it, I am sure….however," she had now completely stopped her weaving and was staring off as if in deep thought, "I feel that even if I had wished for a different life, to run free and explore the world… had I truly cared for any of them, I should have been willing to give it all up…_for love_." Christine suddenly turned to him, as if looking for affirmation. "I mean, that is how love is…Right? It should be all consuming and leave you with no doubt in your mind whatsoever? Thus, if I had loved any of them, I should have gladly abandoned my chance at freedom, just to remain in their arms. That is what _true love _is…and you would just know. Don't you agree?"

Erik stared at her for a long time, the silence becoming almost unbearable and her pleading look causing him to fidget in his seat until he could stand it no more.

"I…I'm afraid I have no idea," he replied, perhaps a bit too gruffly, yet the idea of love, be it true or not, had always seemed a cruel joke to him. Who would ever love him? At least not the kind of love shared between a man and a woman; that intimate, passionate emotion he had often seen but never experienced. The idea that Christine had been propositioned by other suitors in the past, men who dreamed of making her their wife, caused Erik's anger to boil over. That coupled with the irrepressible desire he was constantly battling, told him that he needed to vacate the room before he said…_or did_, something he would surely regret. Instantly Erik was on his feet and storming rapidly towards the door. "If you will excuse me, I must begin preparing lunch."

Then he was gone.

Christine was left wondering what she might have said to upset him so, running the conversation over and over in her mind until she feared it would drive her crazy. Erik was indeed a very complex and confusing man.

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By day six Erik was out of ideas…or at least out of new supplies. He desperately wished to offer some music lessons; piano, organ, violin or even singing if she had the aptitude for it…yet the last time he had mentioned the subject, she had become overly sad and left the room. She appeared to have no objection to listening to _him_ play - in fact she seemed to enjoy it very much. Still, he did not wish to inadvertently destroy the tentative relationship they had forged thus far, so Erik decided to hold off on proposing such musical distractions until he felt more secure with her mental state.

That left him to suggest that Christine instead revisit the previous projects she had found most fulfilling. He noted that the knitting and weaving had yielded them a nice set of potholders and place-mats for eating on and that she had been rather proud of her achievements. Yet the unexpected request she gave that morning shocked him just a bit.

"Could…could I instead try to cook today?" she asked, her face a mixture of hope and trepidation.

"Cook?" Erik repeated, wondering how in the world this might be accomplished.

"Yes, I used to love to cook and bake when I was at home," she confessed. "And I feel very badly that you alone are relegated to this task, preparing all the meals while I do nothing to help. I would like to pull my own weight around here, or at least as best I can."

"I do not mind cooking," he assured her, and it was not a lie either. Erik was only too happy to provide for her needs, seeing that she was fed, clothed and kept entertained. It was what made him feel useful…_needed._ If Christine were to become too self-reliant then what would be his purpose? And if she no longer _needed_ him, she might wish to leave. No! He _had_ to keep her dependent upon him…and yet, he found it impossible to deny her request.

Thus breakfast was prepared as a team, with Erik doing the measuring while Christine stirred, poured and flipped when he assured her that the crepes were ready to be turned. There were the expected mishaps, a few ended up in the waste pail when one did not get turned fast enough and the other ended up on the floor, but all in all it did not go as badly as Erik had anticipated. _Much to his displeasure_.

However, as they sat down to eat and he saw the huge grin of pride spread across her lips as she took her first bite, Erik realized he could not begrudge her this joy. She needed to feel useful as well, and he would not be so selfish as to keep her reliant upon him only to prolong his own happiness. She longed for liberty above all else and it was his responsibility to help her attain that, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

Lunch was a bit easier, with him directing her in the preparation of cold meat, cheese and bread. Erik had cringed when she had insisted on slicing the bread herself, becoming very anxious as he watched her with the serrated knife in her hand. He observed as she felt the edge of the bread and then pulled her finger back about half an inch, placing the blade at the tip before cutting, making sure that each piece was uniform in size. He was duly impressed…but once again her independence made him scowl.

By dinnertime, Christine was feeling rather confident, asking Erik to remain at a distance and allow her to prepare the soup all by herself. _This did not sit well with him at all!_ First, this was _his_ kitchen and she was _his_ guest, it did not feel right to watch her do all the work when his only wish was to cater to her every whim. Yet Christine desired to cook, so Erik plopped himself down in a chair, removed his gloves - which he tossed on the table in front of him - and silently fumed.

Christine was busy chopping the vegetables very neatly, telling him that she had indeed been practiced at this task before her blindness. He allowed his anger to subside as he began to imagine her as a small child, being placed on a stool with a large apron tied around her waist while her mother taught her the secrets every little girl should know. He felt his lips turning up into a smile as he pictured her; flour on her face, a big toothy grin, stirring some mixture in a bowl that was possibly bigger than her. Erik was certain she had been adorable. Suddenly the images from many years ago sprang to his mind, of him sitting on the table as he read out recipes to Anna while she baked. The way she would smile at him or hand him the spoon and mixing bowl to stir when her arm became tired…those had been some of the best moments of his life.

He had been so caught up in his memories that he almost failed to see that the bottle of cooking oil had been placed too close to where she was working and as he watched, he could see that one wrong move would send it crashing to the floor. Not wishing to halt her progress, or interrupt her ongoing description of whatever it was she had been talking about, Erik decided to just move it out of harm's way himself. He had always been very light on his feet, able to sneak up silently on the most wary of prey without them knowing he was there until it was too late. So he figured he could easily rescue the bottle of oil and be back in his place before she even realized he had moved. Erik had just reached out his hand when Christine chose to turn suddenly, apparently to ask him if he preferred a lot or just a few carrots. And since she assumed he was still sitting at the table, she did not lower her knife before she did so.

Erik leapt back, grabbing the side of his palm as the sharp blade sliced through his skin, hissing in displeasure as a trickle of blood oozed between his fingers.

"Erik!" Christine gasped, pulling the knife closer to her own body and freezing in place for fear she might do further damage. "Did…did I cut you?"

"I am afraid the answer would be yes, however it was completely my own fault for not alerting you to my presence," he quickly assured her as he saw the look of horror on her pretty face. He had suffered far worse in his time and he knew in comparison, this was hardly anything to even sniff at. Yet from the way Christine flew into action, one might have thought she had severed one of his vital organs.

"Oh, Erik, I am so terribly sorry!" she cried, dropping the blade on the counter as she reached out to grasp him by the arm, directing him to immediately take them to the much used bag of medical supplies. He recalled that it had been left in the music room from the day she had tried her hand at sewing, so he did as he was told and took them there. Once he was seated in a chair and she was fumbling for the antiseptic, amid a plethora of apologies, Erik found he could not contain his laughter any further.

"What is so funny?" she asked, not at all amused by the idea that she had inflicted damage upon her gracious host.

"I was just thinking that when you requested to cook dinner, my initial thought was that it would end up in bloodshed," he informed her, still unable to wipe the grin off his face. "I of course had no idea it would be my own."

At first Christine just stared at him, her face ashen with fear and shame, but then as he was once more unable to contain his mirth, she too began to chuckle until they were both laughing from the absurdity of it all.

Soon, with Erik's help, his wound was neatly cleaned and bound. The offending knife was thoroughly scoured and Erik stationed himself knowingly at her side while dinner preparations were completed - allowing them to retire to the sitting room to read while the soup simmered. Erik would have rather played for Christine instead of reading to her, but he felt it best to let his hand heal a little before he attempted to flex it in an attempt to play music. Yet, any time spent in the company of Christine was a pleasure for him, even if it meant sustaining a few minor wounds in the process.

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As day seven dawned, Erik felt he was now ready for just about anything. So far he had lived through tears, embarrassment and injury - leaving him to conclude that nothing could shock him now. Nothing that is, except fielding the unexpected question she next posed. Yet this was not one of their games, where he could easily answer then ply her with the same query in return. No…this time he, and he alone, would face the weighty responsibility of explanation. Something Erik had not been looking forward to in the least.

For when he arrived at her bedroom door that morning to escort her to the kitchen, he found her already dressed, standing at the far wall of her room with her hands feeling along the portion where the wooden panels met cold stone. When Christine heard him enter she turned around, facing him with a quizzical look, one that sent a wave of panic through his body.

"Erik…why is one of the walls in this room made of stone?" she asked. "And why does there appear to be no windows in your house?"

_Damn!_ She had asked him a direct question, and by the oath he had made to himself, he was now honor-bound to reply.

_Yet…how?_

* * *

**Oh boy Erik, your game of questions is not looking so fun now, is it? But remember, you promised to answer her truthfully if she asked you point blank...right...RIGHT!?**

**So how did you like Erik's attempts to find projects for her to do?**

**Amir seemed to enjoy the painting one since he got something out of the deal...and maybe some compensation for getting her feminine things. ha ha.**

**Wasn't Erik sweet to cut holes in his socks for her to stitch up?**

**Never sneak up on a blind woman with a knife, Erik! Oh, and I practiced cutting up the fixings for tacos last night with my eyes closed...IT CAN BE DONE! ha ha. But please...DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME UNLESS UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF A SEXY PHANTOM**

**Poor Erik, he was so confused and flustered over her question about what true love was...it just would not compute.**


	19. Chapter 19

**As of this moment, we are only 53 away from the goal of 1,000 reviews, which will earn you ALL a bonus chapter on Saturday. And remember, some of you still hold a Golden Ticket...that free snippet card. One you can use at any time.**

**And i do not consider it cheating if you wish to go back and review for any chapters you might have missed while reading. BUT it is cheating if you sign out and then spam the story with a ton of guest reviews yourself. ha ha. So don't do that. I want to get there fair and square.**

**And hats off to the reader name "BadassSyd" for mixing up a batch of Rose Biscuits, which turned out _absolutely DELICIOUS_ she says! Has anyone else tried making some?**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**SassyAngelOMusic:** Did you go to Phantom while you were there? Glad to have you back though!

**TheRebbs98:** Just send in your one wonderful review and I am sure it will be plenty. Thanks though. Yep, the opera people are probably afraid Erik is down there bedazeling his cape or mask, ha ha. A SPARKLEY Phantom! They better run for their lives!

**Mystery:** Slow down fluttery heart, you don't want to wear yourself out too quick! awwww, that would be nice if they made rose biscuits! Now, go to sleep, get some rest and get ready for that bonus chapter I hope I will be sending your way on Saturday. ha ha.

**syrianlight:** Yah, the singing will come, I promise. Yep, Christine survived the cooking thing, but Erik did not come out unscathed. And I can so see her putting a bell on him! He would stare at it like he was being tortured and then give a half hearted smile and just live with it. At which point Christine would burst out laughing and tell him it was all a joke and let him take it off. ha ha. Reminds me of the line from the musical The Scarlet Pimpernel - where Percy said they would put a bell on Chauvelin, but they would make it black. ha ha, Loved that line.

**Guessst:** I KNOW, I am so tickled. At this rate, Seeing Is Believing might even pass Mystery Behind the Mask! You are all so wonderfully generous with your reviews. THANKS!

**EC4ever:** But...she can't 'watch it' since she can't SEE. ha ha. Erik will have to be the one to watch himself, and stay out of her line of fire. ha ha. I am sure he will treasure that scar though for the rest of his life. ha ha.

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**Chapter 19**

**Let The Water Wash Away Our Sins**

* * *

Erik was completely stunned and stood there without a clue as to how he should answer. Often he had considered that she might indeed ask these questions, yet he had pushed those thoughts aside, not wishing to contemplate such unpleasantness. Still, here he was, faced with the dilemma of how to respond.

Truthfully…or would he lie?

Oh, a lie would be easy, for many years now they had effortlessly rolled off his tongue until he could call himself a master at the craft. With one falsehood after another, Erik had built himself a new life, a safe existence in an attempt to make up for all this world had taken from him. Yet with the innocent question of this delicate lady, he feared it was all about to come tumbling down in ruin.

"Erik?" Christine asked, confused by his silence. She crossed the room slowly, coming to stand in front of where she assumed he was. "Erik, why will you not answer me?"

"I…I will," he promised, and he meant it too. "But perhaps we should sit down before we speak…this might take a while."

His cryptic words seemed to puzzle her even more, yet she accepted his gloved hand as he led her into the parlor, guiding her to one corner of the small sofa as he positioned himself at the opposite end.

"Now will you explain to me why parts of your home are made of stone and why there seem to be no windows on any wall?" she asked quietly.

"The reason, dear Christine, is simple, though you may not like the explanation I have to offer," he told her with a heavy sigh. "I do not wish to frighten you."

"You are causing me more distress by delaying an answer," Christine insisted. "For as they say, the imagination can create ideas far more terrifying than actuality…so please, allay my fears and tell me the truth."

At this Erik knew he would not lie, she deserved to know where she was being kept, yet it shamed him deeply to utter the next words.

"There are no windows because…I live underground," Erik finally confessed, turning his head away so that he would not see the look of terror that was sure to cross her face. "The reason some of my walls are made of stone is due to the fact that I carved and built my home out of a cavern. We are currently several floors below ground in my secret hideaway known only to a select few. I did speak true when I said I found you on the shores of my lake, it too just happens to be underground, and I can only assume you were washed through several tunnels to get here." There, he had said it and now he would let the chips fall as they may. She would be horrified, to say the least, but would she now demand to leave, beg him to release her from this subterranean prison he had been keeping her in?

"Underground?" she asked, her voice a mixture of wonder and anxiety, her head turning as if she were desperately trying to look around the room. "I…I suppose that explains the marvelous acoustics you have…down here."

Erik could see that, while her hands were fidgeting nervously in her lap, she was doing her best to keep her voice calm. Yet he could hear the touch of fear in her tone and he quickly tried to calm her.

"You are completely safe," he assured once more. "There is no danger, for the structure is sound. And though the location is a bit…unconventional, I have equipped my home with all the modern conveniences you would find in any normal house…just without windows."

"Oh, I believe you," Christine was quick to respond. "It…it just might take a while to get used to the idea that I am actually…underground."

Erik was given a glimmer of hope by her words. If it was something that required getting used to…perhaps that meant she might be willing to stay around long enough to do so.

"I swear that I would have revealed the oddity of my home sooner, but since you had never asked to go outside…it just never seemed important." Although in all honesty, Erik had been grateful that Christine had never asked to take a walk or see what lay beyond his front door.

"I suppose I have been rather uninterested in going outdoors," she admitted, looking a bit downcast. "Why should I wish to take a walk when the thought of being in the open still unnerves me? I have felt safe within these walls, comfortable knowing the boundaries of my new world…a world of eternal night."

"Christine," Erik began, yet not knowing just what to say. Thankfully she interrupted before he had to continue.

"No, Erik, I am sorry," Christine continued, holding up her hand in an apologetic manner. "I know I said I would attempt to make the best of things, and I am trying…honest. Just every now and again the darkness seems to close in around so tightly that I fear it might suffocate me."

"And learning that you are now entombed beneath the earth only compounds the issue, I imagine," Erik responded, fully understanding how she might be feeling.

"Well…it does not help," she admitted, giving a nervous laugh. "Yet like I said, I have felt safe here, protected and kept away from harm. I do not see why that has to change just because there is an unknown depth of rock and dirt above my head. Right?"

Erik could tell she was looking to him for reassurance and that tiny bit of hope bolstered his confidence.

"That is correct, Mademoiselle," he eagerly told her. "Nothing has changed in the past few minutes, other than the knowledge of your current location. Your perception of your surroundings can easily remain the same, should you choose. It is still the same rooms, the same furniture, the same… company."

"And the rooms, the furniture and the company have all been top quality," she assured him with a warm smile. As she spoke, Christine reached out, spanning the small distance between them and placed her hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Erik stared down at her hand and he felt as if it had gripped his heart instead, squeezing it so tightly that he could scarcely feel it beating. Christine had touched him of her own free will again! Once more not out of need for guidance as she maneuvered through a room, nor out of necessity as she bandaged the wound she had inflicted, but of her own choosing. Over two decades of loneliness and pain had left Erik starved for affection, desperate for any form of human contact that did not involve pain and degradation. And here she was, his precious little angel, offering it to him in the form of a comforting touch. Oh, the joy that radiated through him was practically overwhelming, almost to the point of it causing him pain. Yet this was a pain he would gladly endure, a hundred times over, if she would only keep her delicate little hand right where it was. He would do anything to prolong this feeling, pay a million francs, beg her on bended knee, and yes, even lie…as he quickly realized at the voicing of her next question.

"But why, Erik?" she asked in all her innocence. "Why do you live down here…alone and isolated from everyone?"

Here he had the chance to rise above what everyone thought him to be…a monster. He had the opportunity to tell her the truth and be an honest man for once. Yet, as he looked down at the hand still resting on his arm…a hand placed there in trust…he knew he could not risk losing it.

"I…I am unable to go out in the daylight," he began, realizing it was only a half truth, but that was all he could muster at the time. "I suffer from a malady…one that prohibits me from spending too much time in the sunlight." When he saw her eyes grow wide he quickly added. "I am no vampire or anything mystical, if that is what you fear. It is a medical condition; one where overexposure to the rays of the sun can damage my skin and eyes." Erik truly hated himself for lying to her, for looking into her unseeing, yet trusting eyes, and weaving a story of deceit. For while it was true that his skin had become a bit sensitive to the sun from years of keeping himself in the shadows, Erik knew he was quite capable of spending time under the hot noon rays with no adverse effects. The condition he now described was a real one however; he had read of several cases being documented by medical professionals, claiming to leave those who suffered from such an affliction red and blistered from even minor exposure to the sun. Erik hoped that Christine might also be in possession of this knowledge, as it would solidify his claim.

"Erik, I am so sorry," Christine replied sadly. "How terrible for you."

He groaned inwardly in shame, for the sweet girl was showing genuine compassion for him. Yet Erik could not find it in his heart to feel overly guilty when her other hand joined the first and she had scooted closer to him in order to offer him comfort. Oh, this was torture for his confused mind, for while he berated himself for lying, he was being rewarded for his evils with the blessing of her nearness. Surely it was a monumental sin to have lied to such an angelic creature as Christine. Erik was simultaneously in heaven and hell.

"It…it is something I have learned to live with," he answered, shutting his eyes and focusing on nothing more than her burning touch.

"Is there anything that can be done?" she pressed. "Anything that I might do to help?"

"I appreciate your offer…but no," Erik informed her. Again, that part was not a lie, for there was nothing she or anyone could possibly do to remedy the reason he was forced to stay hidden from the world. Nothing could change his face or his fate. "Yet this is why I remain underground, requiring my supplies to be delivered and receiving no guests…well, none of consequence at least."

"Yet you say you have traveled to many countries," she pointed out. "How could you do so without bringing danger to yourself?"

This question caused Erik to chuckle slightly. For while he knew she was speaking of his fabled medical condition, she could easily have been referring to the truth of his horrible face.

"There are ways," he assured her. "Even in countries that are less advanced, it is still possible to travel by night, and if I am careful and keep my face and body covered, I am able to function for a time within society." Yet even by using these methods, Erik's existence would all too soon become a curiosity and he would be forced to make his escape before his secrets were discovered. Ultimately driving him down below to his current sanctuary, a place free from all the stares, looks of hate and cries of terror. Here he was safe.

"Is this why you seem to wear your gloves at all times?" she asked, her hands now moving down to touch the cloth barriers that protected his skin from her teasing touch. He did his best to stifle the gasp of pleasure that threatened to give him away as she slipped her small fingers around his own, now pulling both of his hands a bit towards her as her thumbs rubbed against the back of his knuckles. Oh, if only she knew the sins those hands had committed, the blood they had shed and the lives they had taken during the drug induced nightmare he now called his life.

"N-n-not exactly," he stammered, knowing full well the reason he refused to touch her bare handed was so he would not inadvertently taint her with his wickedness – contaminate her like a poison that was transmitted through contact. Granted, Christine had briefly skimmed her fingers against his the other night when she had bandaged his wound, but in Erik's mind that had not counted. For it had been a perfunctory act, one brought on by her desire to atone for the fact that she had cut him…not as any sort of affectionate gesture. "My…my hands are rough…from years of working in masonry. I…do not wish to offend you with their coarseness. It would be improper."

"That is ridiculous," she scolded. "I touched your hand the other night when I bandaged your wound. Granted, I was more concerned with stopping the blood I had caused than the texture of your palm, but I recall nothing offensive about it." She then began to tug at the fingers of his gloves. "Please take them off - at least when you are inside and it is safe for you to do so. We have been on a first name basis for a while now and I am, after all, living under your roof. I see nothing improper about you being comfortable in your own home."

Once more Erik was forced to smile at her choice of words. Comfortable? Erik had not had a moment of comfort since he discovered her on his lakeshore. If anything she brought him a million facets of discomfort, mostly stemming from the fact that she was the living embodiment of every man's fantasy.

And even if Erik often denied himself admission to the human race…at the end of the day, he was certainly a man!

Yet at her gentle urgings, he did indeed allow her to divest him of his protective gloves and suddenly there was skin touching skin, as she once more cradled his hands in hers.

"There, that is much better, isn't it?" she smiled, completely unaware of the abject terror that sprang to Erik's eyes.

Better? It was pure bliss! Yet even with such emotions clouding his mind, Erik forced himself to remember that this contact was only made possible by the fact that Christine could not see the form of the man she was now touching. For if she could…things would be vastly different.

"Then…then you will stay?" he asked, his voice hoarse from fear and uncertainty.

"Of course I will," she told him, a smile lighting her face. "Why should I care if you choose to have no windows? After all, it is not as if I desire to look out and admire the view."

Her lighthearted jest brought a smile to his face as well, and once again he saw her as nothing less than perfect. Perhaps in time she might wish to go outside, to walk in the fresh air, but the fact that she could accept his odd living conditions almost brought tears of relief to his eyes.

"Then…if you are to stay… may I interest you in a delicious breakfast?" he offered, eager to get things back to the way they had been before her inquiry.

"Only if you allow me to help make it," Christine nodded eagerly. "And I promise this time not to go anywhere near a knife," she added with an apologetic giggle.

"I have your word on that?" he chuckled back, standing as he helped her rise. He chose not to let go of her hand though and he noted with a hint of satisfaction that she did not pull away either.

"Yes, you have my word. And I would never lie to you, Erik," she assured him, tucking her hand now within the crook of his arm as he began to guide her to the kitchen.

Erik only wished he could say the same.

He truly felt like scum.

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The rest of the morning was spent pleasantly enough, with Christine asking him many questions about his home and how he had built it. Each time he answered, Erik had to be careful not to give too much away or accidentally reveal that they currently sat below the Palais Garnier. The last thing he needed was for her to associate him with tales of the Phantom, for even if she had only been in the city for a short time, stories of the Opera Ghost were legendary and it was quite possible she had heard a few of them. No, it was better that she continued to believe his underground home rested somewhere on the outskirts of Paris and not beneath the musical heart of it.

No matter how he tried to shake it, Erik still felt rather perturbed by Christine's continued need to become more independent. First it was her wish to help with breakfast, then she insisted on drying the dishes after lunch while he washed, but later that day when she asked him to help her count off steps from room to room, Erik really began to become irritated. Not at her directly, just at the situation in general. He had so few ways to show his gratitude for her being there and little by little she was taking away each opportunity he had. Besides, if she felt confident enough to move around his house alone, what other reasons would he find to gain her innocent touches? Something he had come to crave so desperately.

Still, Erik could say nothing, and in the end did as she bid of him, marking off the steps from her room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the parlor and so on. By evening she was able to maneuver around his home without the shuffling feet and outstretched arms which he had come to find so helplessly charming. Instead Christine now took very precise and calculated steps, turning on her mark and counting off several more until she reached her destination - a smile of pride gracing her pink lips all the way. Erik congratulated her, as well as praised her efforts, yet inside he felt as if he were somehow being rendered useless.

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When night came and the gentle bongs of the clock told them it was time for bed, Erik escorted Christine to her chambers, planning to light a candle for her just as he always did. Yet when Erik went to get one from the drawer in which they were kept, he was shocked to see that it was empty!

Well, he had been quite distracted by his attempts to keep his guest occupied, it was true, but that did not excuse his negligence in restocking his supplies. Apparently, burning a candle each night in Christine's room, per her request, had quickly depleted his stock.

When he explained the dilemma to Christine, she seemed anxious over the news, yet did her best to hide her disappointment. He suggested he turn up the gas lights for her, but those were undetectable should she awake and wish for confirmation that she was not left alone in the dark. The fireplace in her room seemed a reasonable alternative, offering light as well as a small noise that accompanied the flickering gas flames. So with the fire burning merrily in the hearth, he bid Christine goodnight, allowing her to undress in private while he patiently waited outside her door.

When he was quite certain she was in bed and modestly covered he crept in on phantom feet and silently took up his post. Her nightmares had become quite infrequent, yet that did not deter him from sitting in his chair and keeping watch over her until he was certain she would sleep peacefully through the night. The candle had always provided more than enough light for him to make out her sleeping form and he relished these times when he could observe her in such a relaxed state. For even though she was a relatively happy person, often when she felt he was not watching, Erik saw a look of concern come over her, one of understandable distress due to her current situation. She was doing better, earnestly trying to adjust to the blindness, but Erik understood it would be quite a long time before she could fully come to terms with her fate. He wondered if the hopeful prognosis he had given her that first day might indeed have been correct. That there was still the slim possibility that her eyesight would return and she could continue on with her life, just as it was meant to be.

He wondered if it made him a horrible person to secretly wish that her sight would never return.

Something Erik did to pass the time, while he sat there and waited to see if she would have need of him, was to silently compose in his mind. He allowed his fingers to tap out the notes on his leg, hearing the tones in his mind as if he were truly striking the keys of his piano. It was in these quiet moments, with her peaceful image lying in the bed before him, that he created the most inspirational songs. He would run them over and over in his mind until he could stand it no longer and then slip out to copy them down on paper. Always afraid if he did not transcribe them immediately, they would be lost to the turmoil of his ever spinning brain.

Erik now had pages and pages of music dedicated solely to Christine and yet he had not found one word worthy to pair with such notes. What had Anna told him, so long ago? Music comes from the heart. He had never had trouble creating the melody…it was the words that eluded him. For until now, he had never had reason to look within the cold and dead organ he scarcely called a heart any longer. Why should he? There had never been anything residing there after he had given up on ever finding Anna again. But now…now there was a small flicker, a fragile flame that had begun to grow since the moment Christine had entered his life. Perhaps in time, given enough encouragement, the words would come and he would set them to music…his music.

Erik was not sure how long he had been lost in thought but he suddenly became aware that the room was growing steadily warmer, the fireplace causing the temperature to rise considerably. He was just thinking of turning the valve down to lower the flames when Christine began to move, stealing away all other thought. At first he believed she might be on the verge of a nightmare, and prepared himself to rise and go to her aid. But instead, Christine rolled over, and apparently finding it a bit warm herself, she pushed off the layer of blankets without ever truly waking up.

Erik's eyes grew wide and his mouth opened in a silent gasp of shock. For in her efforts to cool herself, Christine had caused the hem of her nightdress to creep slightly up her thigh, exposing his ever lustful eyes to the tantalizing flesh of her slender leg, a sight he had never imagined he would be privileged to see. The flickering flame allowed both light and shadow to dance across the canvas of his dreams, and he found himself wishing that his fingers could be granted the same honor. The sleeping Christine was completely unaware of the torture she was putting him through just by lying there in such an innocent, yet sensually provocative position. Suddenly, he felt his body begin to respond and his trousers became unbearably snug.

Damn it all to hell, he silently cursed within his mind. Was there no end to the humiliations he must endure from the betrayal of his own wretched flesh?

Without a sound Erik rose from his seat and exited the room, his eyes staring straight ahead as if in a daze. He did not stop walking until he reached his front door, quickly tripping the mechanism that allowed it to swing open unaided. Once through, he made a beeline for the underground lake, stripping off his mask and other articles of clothing as he went. When he was left in nothing but his still overly tight slacks, he stoically walked directly into the frigid water, allowing the icy blast to bring him a measure of relief. He stood there with his eyes shut for quite a long time, chest deep as he felt the slight waves lap around him. When he at last felt he had regained control of his deviant mind, he opened his eyes, glaring at the waters around him as if they were mocking him for his lack of restraint.

Yet he had kept hold of his honor, he had acted just as Anna had told him …like a gentleman. It had been one of the hardest things in his life, not to give in to the urgings of his mind, but he had succeeded. He had gained victory over his body at last, and now that he had, Erik began to feel the biting chill of the waters around him.

Making his way out of the lake he slowly picked up his mask and discarded clothing, before heading back inside. Once there he quickly made his way into his room, trying not to drip too much across his floors, intent on changing into something dry. Yet the sight of the door to the shared bathing room caught his eye. It had been several weeks now since he had been able to enjoy his large tub, having personally declared it off limits now that Christine was using it. However, a warm soak in his tub would certainly chase away the chill as well as divest him of the residue from the lake water. He had been keeping up on his hygiene quite adequately by using the small sink in the other washroom to take sponge baths and wash his hair…but the idea of submerging himself in warm water once again was far too tempting to pass up.

As quietly as possible Erik filled the porcelain tub with warm water, placing a towel in the bottom of the basin in order to muffle the sound as it poured in. Twice he had thought of peeking into Christine's room, just to make sure she was still fast asleep. However, the thought of what he might see, and the idea that it could lead to another chilly swim had kept him far away from the connecting door. Soon the tub was full and after stripping off his sodden trousers, he slipped beneath the relaxing liquid. Erik shut his eyes and laid his head back against the edge, allowing a deep sigh of contentment to escape from his lips. He had always preferred being clean, not the type who chose to wallow in filth or allow his body to build up an offensive odor. So picking up the soap and wash rag he had laid out for himself, Erik began to remove all evidence of his midnight swim.

While he had thought he was being quiet, making no more noise than necessary, he somehow missed the quiet footsteps as they approached the door in front of him. He had forgotten that Christine no longer shuffled her feet as she walked, now having counted the exact number of steps from her bed to the washroom door. So when it was suddenly pushed open, Erik's only recourse was to freeze instantly, praying that his blind little companion had no desire to use the facilities. Oh, why had he not thought to lock that blasted door?

Much to his relief Christine instead headed towards the sink, picking up a small glass and filling it with cool water to drink. Erik made no move, no sound that would alert her to his presence and while he knew without a doubt that she could in no way see his nakedness, that did not stop the red tint of shame from creeping up his neck and across his uncovered face. He could see his mask, lying on the small bench just out of arm's reach, staring at him as if it were laughing at his ridiculous predicament. Once more he reminded himself that she could not see him, yet he still felt the undeniable urge to leap from the tub and run to the safety of his room. However, one wrong move and she would know he was there, and that would lead to a very awkward conversation… one he dearly wished to avoid.

When Christine was finished drinking her water she set the glass back down on the sink and turned to leave. Erik thought for sure he was home free when she felt around for the door handle and pulled it open, all prepared to step through and leave him with his dignity.

Yet when had life ever been that kind to him? For just then one last ill-timed drip of water fell from the pipes and made an echoing sound as it hit the otherwise still liquid below. All the blood drained from his previously flushed face as Christine stopped and turned back to look in his direction. He wondered how far he would allow her to come before crying out that she halt, fearing above all else that she might begin to feel around with her hands to see if she had left the tap on or the plug in the tub by mistake. Oh, now that would have been an embarrassing situation for sure, one he saw no way to recover from!

When she took a step towards him, apparently intent on discovering what had caused the sound, Erik knew he had to do something…and fast! So summoning all the skill he had so expertly honed from years of playing Opera Ghost, he threw his voice, making it appear that he was not indeed sitting in the bathing tub directly before her, but instead standing at her bedroom door.

"Christine…are you in here?" he called, watching as she halted and turned her attention towards the direction his voice had come.

"Yes, Erik," she called back. "I will be right there." With a few more calculated steps she had made it back to the washroom door and blessedly left the room.

With lightning speed, Erik rinsed off as well as he could and jumped from the tub, pulling the drain plug as he went. Grabbing his bathing robe, and tying it about him, he sprinted out the opposite door and into his own room. Stopping only briefly to put on a pair of house slippers, so that he would not slip and kill himself with wet feet, he rushed out his bedroom door, practically running into Christine who had come in search of him.

"Oh, there you are, Christine," he said, doing his best to not sound as frantic and winded as he truly was.

"I heard you call to me, but when I got to the door, you were gone," she explained. "Did you need something?"

Yes, Erik's mind screamed, I need another cold swim! For as he stared down at Christine, he became painfully aware that the nightdress she was wearing was not only pleasingly fitted, it was also a bit on the thin side as well! He had been so caught up in the fear that she would notice him in the tub that he had not taken time to examine her. Yet now as he did, it suddenly provided Erik's already overactive imagination plenty of fodder to work with.

"No…I…I thought I heard you stir and when I called out and you did not answer, I became worried and began to search the other rooms," he lied. Once more he felt a twinge of guilt over it, but it was far better to fabricate this ruse than admit to the truth now.

"I was a bit warm and decided to get myself a drink from the washroom," she answered.

Erik knew Christine was completely unaware of what she was doing as she looked up at him so innocently with those large, blue eyes. Thankfully Anna's commanding words sprang to his mind and reminded him that he was to act like a gentleman and that he needed to be good! And to his profound gratification…his traitorous body obeyed, allowing him to take a deep breath and continue on as a normal human being.

"Would you like for me to turn the fireplace down, my dear?" he offered, impressed with how steady his voice sounded.

"That would be lovely," she nodded, turning around and walking back to her room with minimal fumbling.

Erik gave a moan low in his throat. She was even more tempting as she walked away from him!

As quickly as possible Erik turned down the gas flames, leaving them a bit dimmer yet still casting enough light within the room. He then bid Christine goodnight a second time and left her chamber, shutting the door securely behind him as he leaned the back of his head against it.

"That was far too close for comfort," he mumbled to himself as he took several deep breaths, not entirely sure he meant the near miss in the washroom or the way he had been forced to rein in his lecherous mind and body. One thing was for damn sure; he would not let another day pass without acquiring some more candles!

A trip to the opera house above would most definitely be on the agenda before tomorrow evening!

* * *

**Wow, Erik, I should say so. You better invest in a candle making factory and have them hand delivered each day!**

**So how did you think Erik danced around the subject of why he lives in a cave?**

**How long do you think she will buy his 'I can't go out in the sun' thing?**

**What did you think of his midnight swim? ha ha. **

**Told you that learning to throw your voice at the age of 8 would come in handy Erik...I TOLD you!**

**Ok, lets see if we can make it to 1000! As soon as we do, I will post the bonus chapter, so the faster you review, the faster I will post!**

**FP33**


	20. Chapter 20

**THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!**

**With your help, 'Seeing is Believing' reached 1,000 reviews on Friday night!**

**You have MlleBree to thank for being my 1,000th reviewer and winning you the bonus chapter below. She is also the winner of the Mystery Contest for being that numbered review! Since it does not take much effort to count reviews and make sure that your review falls on a certain number, you can understand why I could not reveal the nature of my secret contest. As her prize, MlleBree wins her very own snippet card to spend when she wishes. Congratulations!**

**Guest Reviews:**

**Guest Loved it**: I don't think ANYONE has any idea about what is going on in Erik's head! Least of all ME! ha ha. I think it will take wild horses to pull the truth out of him about his deformity...he really does NOT want to scare her away. Don't Run Christine...Erik is nice...REALLY!

**syrianlight**: Do you eat apple roses...or just look at them? And of course it counts! Erik does have good self control...because Anna told him to be good! She will be especially proud to know he was a gentleman with her DAUGHTER! Don't tell her he lied...ok, Erik would appreciate that.

**PhantomChristine**: Thanks and I hope you liked his answer! Erik may be a prince of darkness, but he is no blood sucking vampire, ha ha. I haven't the foggiest idea on how to throw my voice. I am lucky to speak intelligibly and be understood the normal way. ha ha.

**Mystery**: You know...back in MY day, when we were caught reading something in class (like a note) the teacher would take it and read it out loud to the class. Oh man, if she would have done that to you...i think you would have been blushing even more than Erik! ha ha. Glad I am eliciting emotions out of you! Did this bonus chapter arrive at "Erik running out of the bathroom after Christine blindly walks in on him taking a bath" speed?

**Guest**: Thanks for following and thanks for being hooked! And a big THANKS for adding in your review to help get us to the bonus chapter...and look...here it is! Hope to hear from you again and yes, she will sing, I promise.

**Guessst**: Erik has mastered many skills, but he is especially grateful for this one! ha ha.

.

NOW...lets go see what this 'dilly' is...

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**Chapter 20**

**The Best Laid Plans**

* * *

By the following morning, Erik was still recovering from the painfully uncomfortable evening he had been forced to endure. He had lain awake for hours, his mind and body churning with thoughts of the angel who slept only a few doors away. Erik found very little peace that night and was not surprised when he woke feeling like the walking dead, as his ghostly persona often claimed he was.

Over breakfast, once again made with the help of his irritatingly independent assistant, he broached the subject of his upcoming absence. He knew it would take very little time to make his way above and procure the necessary candles, ensuring there would be no repeat performance of last night's fiasco, yet he was now posed with a dilemma. The optimum thing to do would be to travel above while she napped, ensuring her safety while he was away, just like he had done in the past. However, now that she was aware of his need to restock his candle supplies, and she believed that he could not be out during daylight hours, he was forced to adjust the time of his departure for fear she might become suspicious. Erik still felt terrible about having lied to her in this manner, and he knew if he was not careful it would come back to haunt him. Yet it was too late now, he had figuratively made his bed…now he must lie in it.

"I will only be gone for a short while," he assured her as they ate. "It is not a long journey to the surface and there are many stores very close in which I might procure the necessary candles."

"I see," was all she said, absently blowing on the steaming cup of tea in her hands, but never once lifting her head to look his direction.

"I could easily get you anything else you might require while I am there," he continued, confused by her seeming lack of interest in his plans. "More yarn perhaps? You mentioned that you wished to try your hand at creating a scarf."

"That would be nice…something in red perhaps?" she muttered, still appearing to be far more absorbed in her drink than his words.

"Red it shall be then," he nodded, letting the subject drop. Her attitude was quite perplexing.

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It was not until later that afternoon that Erik was given some insight as to why she had acted in such an odd manner. He had been in the music room looking for some blank staff paper, something he was forever running out or forgetting where he had stashed a few emergency sheets for just such occasions, when he heard Christine approach from behind. She stood there for some time before clearing her throat in an attempt to gain his attention. Erik was forced to smile at her polite efforts, thinking it foolish since he was keenly aware of her location every moment of the day. All except the previous night, that is…when he had been otherwise distracted in the bathtub.

"Yes, Christine?" he asked, grinning in triumph as he found what he had been looking for…five whole sheets of blank staff paper!

"I…I was wondering," she began, her head lowered and her hands fidgeting together in front of her as she spoke. "Could I…please go too…when you travel above this evening?"

Erik had not been prepared for this request and quickly spun around, his hands balling into fists as he crumpled the precious pages within his fingers.

"You…you wish to leave?" he gasped, hardly able to voice the question.

"Leave? No!" Christine responded, looking up quickly with a confused expression. "I just wish to accompany you…to go along when you ascend above. I…I would like to…to get some fresh air."

Erik let out a pent up breath at her explanation, though right on the heels of his relief came dread. He had originally planned to sneak up to the opera house and liberate a hefty supply of candles, yet she was now expecting him to go outside…_into the city_! How could he explain that? Yet while he frantically thought of ways around this new dilemma, he noted that Christine appeared to be quite unnerved by the idea, even though it was she who was suggesting it.

"Is that your only reason?" he asked, taking a few steps closer to her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. At his question she looked down once more and turned her head, as if trying to avoid some hidden secret. "Christine…?" Erik further prompted.

"I…I would also like to post a letter to my family," she hurriedly revealed, almost looking guilty at her admission.

"Is that all," Erik asked with a chuckle of relief. "I would be more than happy to see that your letter was mailed."

"I know you would, and I thank you for that," she nodded. "Yet I would like to go outside as well…just to see…_to see if I can_." Her final words were spoken in an almost desperate whisper, causing Erik's jaw to tighten as his mind instantly jumped to conclusions.

"You mean to see if I will _let_ you?" he spoke slowly, his tone now full of indignation. "Do you suddenly fear that I would deny your request and keep you down here against your will… like some prisoner?"

"No! Of course not!" Christine quickly denied, stepping closer to him as her hands came up in a defensive gesture, attempting to convince him that his assumptions were false. "I did not mean anything of the sort. But you see…I have been thinking about this ever since you mentioned going above and I worry that I…that I cannot bring myself to even try. That being out in the open, around people…I might panic and…and…" Christine stopped there and buried her face in her trembling hands. "What if I can never go outside again? What if I never find the courage to leave the security of these walls? If anyone is keeping me prisoner…it is me…me and my own fears!"

While Erik saw nothing wrong with her remaining inside with him forever, it was obvious that Christine _did_. And seeing his little angel this upset tugged at his insides something fierce.

"I believe that just asking for the opportunity to _try_ is a victory in itself," he replied, taking a few more steps closer until he stood directly in front of her. "I can see your fears and I understand them, truly I do. Yet you are far stronger than you give yourself credit for. If this is something you wish to attempt, I see no reason why you should deny yourself the opportunity to try."

"Then you will take me?" she asked, looking up with hope shining in her vacant blue eyes.

"Of course I will," he assured her, his voice soft and encouraging. It would mean some very radical changes to his plans, but with some forethought he was sure he could manage it adequately.

"Thank you, Erik!" Christine said, her face now beaming with excitement. She then reached out and grabbed his arm, following it down to grasp his hand in hers. "I know I can do it…as long as you are there beside me."

Erik looked down at where her fingers were now entwined with his own and he could feel his other hand balling into a tight fist once again, further crumpling the music sheets he still held, rendering them completely unusable. He opened his mouth and then closed it several times before he could find the will to speak, and when he did, his voice all but cracked from the thick emotions he was trying to hide.

"We…we will leave at dusk," he informed her. "Perhaps you should… begin to write your letter?"

"Yes, I need to tell my parents what happened. To fully explain the mix-up and why the police thought I was dead," she nodded, taking a step back, releasing his hand as she went.

"Then why don't we make our way to the parlor so I can find you some writing paper," he offered, gesturing towards the door, before realizing foolishly, that she could not see any of it. "After you, my lady," he added, grateful that his words were understood, even if his motions were not.

.

.

As she began the letter they quickly discovered a dilemma: without the use of her eyes, she could not seem to write straight on the paper, causing her first sentence to veer downwards and look quite odd. It had not mattered much when she had penned the telegram message for Amir, since he was fully aware that she was blind. Yet, Christine was still unwilling to notify her parents of her current condition and a slanted sentence would surely alert them that something was amiss. When Erik mentioned it, she crumpled up the paper and tried again. Unfortunately the second and third attempts all ended the same way and she truly became discouraged. Erik suggested that she dictate to him what she wished to say and he would write the letter for her, but Christine was oddly reluctant to do this. She explained that her parents would be very confused and suspicious if it was not written in her own hand. He thought of explaining that he was very well versed in forgery and could easily replicate her writing with ease, but figuring this might raise suspicious questions about his past, he held his tongue.

After a bit of thought, Erik came up with the idea of folding the paper to create indentations that she could feel with her pen, alerting her to the bottom of the line and where the loops of her words needed to end. By feeling the ridge, Christine found she was able to keep her sentences much straighter and was overjoyed by his suggestion. With this solution firmly in place, Erik stepped away and gave her some privacy in which to write. Yet, when she was at last finished, instead of offering to let him read it – like she had done before – Christine immediately folded her letter up and put it in the envelope, sealing it shut with a look of satisfaction.

"There, all done," she announced, turning around in her chair as she held the mysterious letter proudly in her hands.

"Did you not wish for me to proofread it for you…to make sure that it looks all right?" he asked, thinking perhaps she had simply forgotten to ask for his aid.

"No…I am sure it is fine," she quickly assured him, pulling the letter back to her in a protective gesture. "It can go out just as it is."

This caused a frown to cross Erik's face…what was she hiding? Had she mentioned him in the letter? Perhaps telling her parents that she was now being held prisoner down in his dungeon-like lair and that she was in desperate need of a rescue? He shook his head in aggravation. _No!_ He must not think such things. Christine had shown no signs of feeling that way and if she did, she was a marvelous actress to keep such thoughts hidden. It was probably just a difficult letter for her to write, one rife with heartfelt expressions and words of endearment, certainly not something one would wish to have read out loud. Still…Erik was adamant that he know what the letter held, fearing that one wrong word could easily reveal far too much about him or his secretive life.

_He must find a way to read it!_

_._

_._

Unfortunately, Christine held on to her precious correspondence during their light dinner and right up until the time that they were to depart, leaving no opportunity for him to slip it open and peek at its contents. Still, he knew he would find a way before the evening was done and it had been posted. That he guaranteed.

Erik made sure Christine was appropriately attired for their outing, wrapping her up in one of his own cashmere capes, watching as the black fabric all but swallowed her small frame. Yet it was probably for the best, because if she was going out with _him_, remaining unnoticed was a must.

While he had given her the impression they would be leaving at dusk, unbeknownst to Christine, Erik had been adjusting the clocks all afternoon, adding a quarter of an hour or more each time it would chime, until it was now quite late in the evening. Perhaps she would wake a bit tired the next day from going to bed later than she imagined, but he certainly could not take her out amongst a lot of people or allow her to believe it was truly as late as it was. For by agreeing to let her accompany him, Erik would now be forced to break into a store in which to perpetuate the ruse that he was _buying_ the needed candles, as well as the red yarn he had promised her. Still, it was not as if he had never done such a thing before, as shopping in daylight hours was completely out of the question. He just did not know what to do with her while he accomplished this. Erik hoped the solution would present itself at some point during their outing.

As they left the house, Erik paused long enough to show her the secrets to opening the door from both sides. He was pleased that she seemed to grasp the concept quite quickly; a broad smile crossing her lips as she successfully caused it to swing open. Part of him balked at the idea of revealing the exit and entrance to his home, yet she was his guest, _not a prisoner_…as he so often had to remind himself. And while the chances of her ever leaving or entering his home unescorted by him were slim to none, he hoped it made her feel less confined.

The trip through the tunnels went well enough, Erik being very careful not to allow her to step in, or go anywhere near, his well-placed traps. Ones that he now considered useless since Amir had managed to bypass them all on his way down. He knew the man had been the chief of police back in Persia, proving that he was _probably_ not half as foolish as Erik painted him out to be. One did not rise to such a position, or remain alive as long as Amir had, if they did not have the brains to match their courage. Still, it might be fun to add a few more just to see if the Daroga would indeed end up hanging from the ceiling by his legs, screaming bloody murder. Yes…that did sound rather entertaining.

As they approached the gates to the secret exit on the Rue Scribe, Erik leaned down, bringing his lips close to Christine's ear.

"We are here, my dear," he whispered, feeling her grip his arm just a bit tighter. Erik could not say he objected to this. "Just a few more steps and we will be on the outskirts of the city. Shall we proceed?"

Christine paused, taking several deep breaths as she contemplated her choices. Go back and admit failure, or press forward and strive for victory? In the end she chose victory.

"I…I want to go on," she informed him, her voice quiet but full of determination.

"Very well," Erik nodded, pushing the iron gates open and leading her through.

The night was well along and thankfully not too many people still roamed the streets, making it easy for Erik to navigate towards the area where a few nice shops were located. Thankfully there were no performances at the opera house that evening, so there was nothing to give away their location. The last thing Erik wanted was for Christine to realize just how close they really were to the pinnacle and heart of Paris' musical world. There would be no actual productions until a new lead soprano was found, but they still hosted a packed house several times a week by featuring ballets and symphonies, just to assure that some revenue continued to pour in.

Erik noticed that Christine remained silent at his side, yet he could hear her breathing and was relieved when it seemed to lose some of its frantic nature. The longer they were out in the open, the more she appeared to relax, the vice-like grip on his arm easing up just a bit and allowing more blood to flow through his veins.

A couple rounded the corner ahead of them and without missing a beat, Erik steered Christine into an alleyway, doing all he could to avoid contact with anyone. This was not only for her benefit, but his as well. He had made sure he was amply covered, the collar of his cloak turned up and the brim of his hat pulled down, guaranteeing that his mask would not be easily noticed. Still, the fewer chances they took the better. He would not wish for Christine's first trip above to be marred with screams or panic brought on by someone recognizing him as the Opera Ghost.

"Could we post my letter now?" she asked, looking up at him with an expression of hope.

"Of course," he replied, doing his best to think quickly before allowing that precious envelope to escape his inspection. It was then that an idea struck him and he smiled to himself for his stroke of genius. "This way, I know right where the post office is located."

Erik directed her to a small shop on one of the more deserted streets, having already closed its doors to the public several hours ago and was now locked up tight. Yet in the door there was a slot that was used to insert order requests or correspondence for the owners after hours. It would make the perfect ruse for a postal drop!

"Here we go, Christine," Erik offered, taking her hand and allowing her to feel the little metal flap that swung back and forth. "Just slip your letter through here."

"But…they will not post it without us paying for it," she pointed out, pulling the envelope out of her pocket, but not willing to slide it through just yet.

She had a valid point and Erik would have thought of that sooner, had he truly meant to mail it off. But his ruse did not call for such things so he had to think of something quickly.

"That is true, but I think if we attach a few francs to the envelope, they will graciously adhere the needed postage to it and see that it is sent." It was highly unlikely that this would ever truly occur, in fact he was almost certain some unscrupulous worker would simply pocket the money and toss her letter in the trash. But since he was not actually sending the letter, he only needed to convince Christine that this was a valid hypothesis. Erik quickly pulled out a few bills along with a small piece of string and tied the money to it securely, before handing the letter back to Christine for her inspection. Once she was satisfied that the francs would not slip off, she felt her way to the slot and allowed it to be placed inside.

"There we go," Erik said with a smile. "All taken care of. Now, shall we see about those candles and your yarn?"

Christine had just opened her mouth to answer when a band began to play at some nearby restaurant and the music floated over to where they stood. It was a lively tune, probably one meant to inspire the patrons to rise from their tables and dance, and the melody quickly brought a smile to Christine's face.

"Oh, Erik, could we just stay and listen for a bit?" she pleaded, grabbing his arm as she did. "Please?"

At first he was reluctant to agree, knowing he needed to not only find a way in to the store to get his supplies, but now to retrieve her letter as well. Yet the imploring look in her eyes and her wish to stay gave him the idea he had been searching for. Looking around, Erik first made sure there was no one in sight. Then spotting a small bench just across the street under a large tree, he directed her towards it.

"How about I go into the store while you sit here and enjoy the music," he suggested, helping her find the bench and easing her down gently. "It will be much faster to shop by myself and this way you can listen to your heart's content."

"I…I don't know," she began, a bit unsure about leaving his side.

"I assure you that the street is quite deserted at the moment," Erik continued, doing his best to seem calm. "It is dinner time and everyone has either gone home or is far too busy crowding into restaurants to feast for the night. Besides, I will only be gone for a few minutes." His attempts to reassure her appeared to do the trick, yet Erik himself felt rather uneasy about the whole idea. But no matter how he looked at it, this was the best way to proceed. Where she sat he could easily see her at all times from inside the store, ensuring that she would never truly be out of his sight. And if he had tried to take her with him to shop, how would he have explained the fact he planned to use the side door or that there were no other customers or a clerk to pay? No, her staying outside would be far simpler. "The music will entertain you and you will scarcely know I am gone."

"All right," she nodded, still looking a bit scared, but the lively tune was helping to abate her fears. "I will wait for you here," Christine said with a brave smile.

"Very good," Erik nodded as he quickly made his way back across the street and down the side alley. It took him only seconds to pick the lock and slip inside the store. The first thing he did was retrieve her letter from off the floor and stick it in one of the secret pockets of his cape. He would take it home and read its contents, then give it to Amir to post for him the following day – after all it was once again time for their blasted weekly meeting.

He took a moment to glance out the window and see that Christine still sat on the little bench, her face turned towards the music as a smile played on her lips. He made a mental note to broach the subject of her musical background once again, hoping that she would not shut down like she had before. Erik then turned his attention towards the display of candles, helping himself to a number of the waxy necessities. He would be sure to add more to his list for Victor this week, but he pocketed quite a few, not willing to run out again before his supplies could be delivered. Next he set out to find the yarn she had asked for, but as he passed a shelf that was lined with music boxes, he stopped. _Perhaps she would like one of these_, he thought to himself as he began to inspect them all in order to find just the perfect one.

.

.

Christine had been enjoying herself more than she anticipated. She found the breeze that blew across her face and through the leaves above to be quite pleasant, as well as the music that continued to waft her way. It was quiet on the street and she knew that Erik was only across the way buying supplies, so she was not terribly concerned. In fact she was feeling rather brave and independent, something she had been sorely lacking since her accident. Perhaps coming outside had been a fine idea after all.

At least that is what she believed until she heard the distinct sound of male laughter heading towards her. There appeared to be more than one, her ears picking up the distinct voices of three different men…and they seemed to be rather inebriated. Christine tensed at once, pulling her cloak tighter around her and praying that she might go unnoticed as they passed by. Unfortunately, she did not get her wish.

"Well now," she heard one man say as the stumbling group stopped in front of her. "What do we have here?"

"Looks to be a lost little girl," another one answered, his speech slurring just a bit.

"Oh, no, this is no _little girl_…she looks to be all woman to me," the third one insisted. His words were quickly followed by the sound of a sloshing bottle, tipped up to his lips as he gulped down a few swigs.

"Hey, Claude! Don't be greedy!" the first man scolded, grabbing the bottle away from him. "We all paid for the wine, so we should all share!" He could then be heard taking a drink himself, letting out a belch as he wiped the back of his hand across his lips. "Care for a nip, darlin'?" he asked, now addressing Christine. "It is some of Anton's finest."

"N-n-no…thank you," she replied meekly, not daring to look up at the men.

"Come on, sweet thing," the second man taunted. "It ain't polite to turn down a drink when it is offered to you, especially on a chilly night like this."

"Maybe she is looking for something else to keep her warm," the man named Claude suggested, his tone turning from friendly to something rather disturbing.

"Yah…what is a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?" the first man asked, plopping himself down on the bench beside her and leaning in far too close for Christine's comfort.

"I…I am waiting for my…my friend," Christine stammered, inching away from the man's foul smelling breath. "He just stepped into the store across the street to purchase a few things…he will be right back."

There was a moment of silence followed by an erupting of laughter from the man beside her.

"He left you here and went into the store you say?" he asked, his voice rife with humor. "Do you see anyone in that store, Louis? How about you, Claude?"

"Not a soul, Jean," the man she now knew to be called Louis answered back. "I think the poor girl has been abandoned. Perhaps this fellow had his fill of her for the night and decided to skip out. I do hope you got the money up front before you gave him the goods darlin'."

"No!" Christine stated more firmly, doing all she could to keep her voice free of the terror she was feeling. "Erik is getting candles and yarn…he said he would only be gone a minute…he is coming right back!"

"Right…at the store across the street," Jean responded, his tone revealing that he still did not believe a word she was saying. "Tell you what, sweet thing, why don't you forget about this other fella and come along with us. We can show you a good time and we wouldn't stiff you for your wages neither. You treat us real nice and we promise that you will leave with a pocketful of francs for your trouble."

"W-w-what?" Christine gasped, looking up for the first time. Did they honestly believe that she was …_a prostitute_?

"I got a little place around the corner, nice and cozy with a bed just big enough for two," he bragged. "Course that would mean Louis and Claude here would have to wait their turn, but I am sure they won't mind."

"Now who is being greedy?" Claude huffed, using his friend's words back on him. "I say we let the lady decide who she wants the pleasure of bedding first!"

"Fine by me," Jean answered, reaching out to grab Christine's hand and pulling it to his lips for a kiss before she could yank it away.

"Don't touch me!" she spat out, jumping to her feet as she stumbled away from him, using her hands to guide herself to stand behind the bench. "I am not _that_ kind of girl and my friend will be right back…_he will!_"

"Now there is no reason to get upset," Jean continued, rising as well and walking towards her. "We only want to have a little fun."

As she heard him approach, Christine reached out with her hand and groped for the tree that she knew was nearby. Once she found it she quickly circled around it as if hoping she might hide, yet without any frame of reference to her surroundings she was too afraid to go any further.

"Hey boys," Louis said in a moment of clarity. "I think the little thing is blind."

"So she is," Claude agreed, walking over to the tree and coming around the left side while Jean did the same on the right. When Louis approached her from the front they had successfully boxed her in on all sides, cutting off any means of escape.

"Please, just leave me alone!" Christine all but sobbed, no longer able to hold in her fear. Her body screamed for her to run, to get as far away from these men as she could, yet how? Even if she might get past them, one wrong step and she could easily run into another tree or possibly trip over some other object in her futile attempt to escape. When she felt one of the men's fingers run down the side of her cheek, Christine slapped his hand away and squeezed her eyes shut tight, sinking to her knees with a cry of fear.

All she wanted at that moment was Erik!

.

.

Erik had just found the perfect music box, a small one shaped like a piano that played a fine rendition of one of Beethoven's symphonies. Erik might not care for Chopin's work, but he had always admired Beethoven, making it an excellent choice. Placing it in his pocket he started for the yarn once more, but as he stopped to glance back at Christine, his heart leapt into his throat…_she was gone!_ The bench where he had left her was now empty! Where could she be?

Sparing no more time for questions, Erik ran out of the store through the side door, not even pausing long enough to shut it behind him. He was halfway across the street when he heard Christine's cry of fear, and instantly he knew that she was somewhere behind the large tree to his left. Not sure what he would find, he slowed his pace and crept up quietly, his deadly catgut lasso already in his hand as he prepared to strike.

.

.

"Come on, darlin'," Jean continued, his voice becoming gruff and impatient. "All your blubbering is only putting me in a foul mood. Just do yourself a favor and give old Jean what he wants. You won't like me very much when I am upset."

"I believe you will like _me_ even less," a very deep and threatening voice spoke from behind the three men, causing them to spin around.

"Who is there?" Louis gasped when he saw no one at all, just a few leaves blowing in the wind at his feet.

"Erik?" Christine managed through her sobs, her hands reaching out in hopes that she could grab hold of him, desperately needing to feel his comforting touch.

"Show yourself!" Claude yelled, spinning around a few times as he searched for the source of the voice.

"I would not be in such a hurry to see me, Monsieur," the voice continued, seeming to come from all around them. "For I assure you, if you have in any way harmed the lady, my face shall be the last thing you ever view upon this earth!"

"End these games and fight like a man!" Jean spat out, pulling a knife from his boot and preparing himself for battle. He never had time to even turn completely around before he felt a thin cord coil itself around his throat and begin to choke the air from him. Dropping the blade he grabbed at the noose around his neck and pulled with all his might, yet it would not yield.

In the meantime both Louis and Claude spotted the dark shadow now standing behind their friend as he writhed and fell to his knees, still clutching at his throat. Claude rushed towards Erik, intending to plow into him and throw him to the ground, but at the last moment the dark figure stepped aside, allowing the charging man to whiz past him. Erik turned slightly as he did and landed a punishing blow to the small of the man's back, sending the inebriated sod sprawling across the grass with a cry of pain. Louis saw what had become of his friend and attempted his own assault, but before he could get anywhere close, Erik had swept up the forgotten blade and expertly threw it at the advancing man, burying it hilt-deep into his thigh. With a bloodcurdling scream Louis fell to the ground, grasping his leg as he cried out in agony. With the other two temporarily incapacitated, Erik turned his attention back to the man dangling from his lasso, the one he had heard threatening his little angel with deeds so heinous it made his blood boil.

"Do you think it proper behavior to accost a lady like that?" Erik hissed through clenched teeth, bending low so that his words were directed at the squirming man. "Do you truly believe I should let you live after what you planned to do to this innocent girl?"

"Please…please…don't kill me!" Jean gasped, his face now turning a very unhealthy shade of purple. "I…I am sorry!"

"Your pleas for mercy have fallen upon deaf ears, Monsieur," Erik continued to seethe, pulling just a bit tighter on the catgut. He could see the thin cord biting into the man's flesh, causing a few drops of blood to slide down his neck. "Much the same as her requests were lost on the likes of you!" Erik was so angry, so terribly enraged towards the man that he was only seconds away from snapping his neck and ending his pitiful existence.

Yet two small words stopped him.

"Erik…please," came the pitiful whisper from Christine who still sat with her back to the tree, her hands reaching out desperately as she called his name.

Erik was undone. Christine _needed_ him…and he was still bothering with this fool? What was he thinking? Grabbing the man by his unkempt hair, Erik pulled him up to a standing position, the lasso still tight around his gullet.

"If you ever dare to accost a woman in this manner again, I swear I will return and finish the job," Erik hissed into his ear, making sure that Christine would not hear his words. "I do not take kindly to vermin such as you taking advantage of ladies so near to my domain. For the Opera Ghost sees all and he has no qualms about killing anyone who crosses him. You have been warned…I suggest you take heed." With the final threat in place Erik released the man with a flick of his wrist, watching as he fell to the ground, clutching his neck and gasping for breath. The other two were still down as well, though they were staring at him with such fear that Erik had no doubt that they too recognized him. The Opera Ghost's reputation, as well as description, was legendary in Paris, and Erik had done much to perpetuate the persona. These men would not be making the same mistake twice…he would see to that!

With one final glare of hatred towards the men, Erik turned and knelt beside Christine.

"Christine," he began, speaking softly to her so that she knew it was him and not one of her attackers. "It is Erik, my dear…the danger is past."

"Erik?" she whimpered, looking up as her hands urgently grasped for his. "I want to go home. _Please take me home!"_

"Of course, Christine," Erik agreed, instantly scooping her up in his arms as he walked with a steady purpose back towards the gates at the Rue Scribe. She did not say another word, but her heartbreaking tears spoke volumes. Those men had terrified her, turning her anticipated evening of self-discovery into a nightmare. _Damn them to hell!_

"Shhhhh, Christine," he spoke softly, trying to calm the distraught girl. "Everything is fine now, I am here…no one will harm you. I swear it," he continued, saying the words over and over again as she cried into his shirt front. Yet he was not sure if he was saying them to soothe her…or himself? As the anger and hate began to ebb away, regret and remorse took their place. _He had failed her_…she had counted on him to protect her and he had let her down. His mind spun with horrendous visions of what could have happened had he not returned in time. The three villains might have dragged his little angel off somewhere, to a dark alley or undisclosed residence and done unspeakable things to her against her will.

But no! She was here! Christine was safe and in his arms, right where she belonged.

The iron gates loomed before him and as he wrenched them open, using his elbow and foot, he quickly spirited his frightened little dove back down towards his lair. As he heard the gates clang shut behind him he knew that he would never allow her to face the evils of this world again. He had long ago learned that mankind in general were cruel and full of wickedness, but that had been towards him…a veritable monster. Yet now, to see how that same world would have gladly destroyed something as pure and innocent as his Christine, it caused his hate to grow to monumental proportions.

_Never again!_ Erik swore to himself. Never again would he allow those above to threaten the woman he had sworn to protect. The world did not deserve her!

Sadly though…Erik could no longer pretend that he did either.

* * *

**Oh Dear! That was not good...not good at all! Good thing Erik looked up just then, huh!**

**Christine had such high hopes for her confidence to return...only to be shot down once more. BAD MEN!**

**Now Erik will feel terrible for her and he left those three cads bleeding and in pain (as they should be) knowing they were bested by the Opera Ghost!**

**Thanks for reading, and I will see you all on Monday!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks again for all you did to get this story over the 1,000 mark!**

**I know this chapter is early...but I didn't think you would mind.**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**PhantomChristine:** Well, until that telegram and letter show up, they will be blissfully unaware that anything is amiss, thinking their little girl is doing just fine. Well, first Erik will have to take the letter out of his cape, read it, then give it to Amir to mail...THEN they might get it. ha ha. You are welcome for the bonus chapter and I am glad you liked it.

**Mystery:** Well that is the idea...to keep you all guessing! ha ha. You know what...I had acutally considered making one of the men who accosted her be Raoul...but I like him far too much for that. As for the letter, a girl has to have SOME secrets, right? Erik got the letter, the candles, and a music box, but did not have time to get any yarn. A little of both. Thank you, I was pretty tickled about the numbers myself. Congratulation on your choir victory too. Erik wants to know what it says too, but right now the letter is the last thing on his mind.

**Loveditagain:** Well he only stole her a music box...he has yet to give it to her. ha ha. Ummm, because a magical wizzard fixing her eyes would not have fit into my plot line? ha ha. Erik will always come to her rescue. Erik was being violent FOR her, I think she can accept that. And the letter is still in Erik's cape, no where near on the way to where it should have been sent, so we will just have to hope the telegram eases their worries until Erik gets around to mailing it.

** Erik'sRose77:** You did? And you liked it? Awesome! She will, but not just yet. Hold on a little bit longer, OK?

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**Warning: this chapter has some major feels in it - those of you with tender hearts...beware.**

**You have been warned.**

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**Chapter 21**

**To Sing No More**

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It was not long before Erik was pushing open the door to his underground home and whisking Christine safely inside, slamming it closed with his foot as he shut out the unjust world. He took her directly to her room and gently laid her down on the bed, removing her cloak before pulling the comforter over her as he did his best to appear calm and in control. It certainly would not do Christine any good if he too fell apart.

"You are safe now, my dear," Erik whispered, his hands once again aching to offer her some form of comforting touch. "You are home, just as you requested." If he had not been so distraught over her condition, the idea that Christine had referred to his lair as home would have thrilled him to no end. But as it was, nothing was going to make him happy until he could get his little angel to stop crying. "Would you like something from the kitchen? A drink? Something to eat?" Erik was desperate to offer anything that might stem the tide of tears.

"No! Don't leave me!" Christine cried suddenly, sitting up as she once more reaching out to grab one of his hands, holding on to it as if it were her only lifeline.

"I am not going anywhere," Erik swore, tenderly placing his other hand over the one she held and giving her trembling fingers a reassuring squeeze.

This seemed to soothe her a bit and she laid her head back down on the pillow, turning her face away as she closed her eyes and continued to cry silently. Erik was once more at a loss on how to comfort her, to convince her that she was safe within his care. He thought about singing for her, as he had done many times when her nightmares were upon her. But this time was different…for now she was awake! Erik's voice, raised in song, had not touched another's ears in many years and he felt himself break out in a cold sweat at the thought of doing so now. It had been so long, and for good reason, but as he looked at the misery and pain on his dear Christine's face, Erik swallowed his apprehension and did it…_for her._

His voice was low at first, hardly audible over her continued sobs, yet as he grew more confident, so did his volume. It was a gentle song meant to soothe, and as he watched her face relax and her tears began to subside, he knew he was getting through to her. She never let go of his hand, but her grip grew less desperate and she turned her face towards him, staring up at him with her beautiful blue eyes. Erik continued the song to the end, allowing his golden voice to wrap her within each note like a warm and comforting blanket. When he was finished he simply sat there, completely stunned that he had found it within him to do such a thing. His mother had dubbed his voice a sin, Anna had called it a miracle, but to the gypsies it had only been a way to make them more money. He now waited with his heart in his throat to see what Christine would say.

"It was you," Christine whispered, almost as if she were afraid by speaking she would break the spell of wonder he had woven around her. "It was your voice I have been hearing in my dreams…it was you all along, singing to me each night…wasn't it? Oh, Erik…that…that was beyond beautiful!"

Releasing the breath he had been holding, Erik clutched her hand with both of his. He did not know how to respond to her compliment, so he chose to focus on the fact that she was no longer crying and used the opportunity to speak his mind.

"I am so sorry, Christine. Please forgive me for leaving you alone like that," he beseeched, the emotion catching in his throat as he spoke. "It was all my fault, and I know I do not deserve it, but I beg that you forgive me for my terrible mistake."

"Erik…no," she quietly insisted. "You cannot blame yourself. How could you have known?" Her free hand moved to her eyes, covering them with her palm as she began to shake with anger. "If only I could see…if I had just known which way to go, I would have run! I could have escaped…or if I had the use of my eyes, I might have been inside the store with you! Oh, God, if I was not such a blind wretch, you would not have needed to go into the store to buy me candles in the first place!" With each new realization Christine was becoming increasingly upset, verging on frantic.

"Christine, stop it this instant!" Erik said sternly. "You are not to blame for the wickedness of those men! They were filthy pigs who do not deserve to walk the streets!" She had once more halted her tirade and was listening to his every word…he only hoped she believed them as well. "Now…while it pains me to ask, you must tell me the truth. Did they harm you? Did they…_touch_ you?" It angered Erik beyond belief that he needed to pose such a question, but he had to know, for her safety as well as his sanity.

"One of them…he touched my hand and my face," she admitted, her fingers grazing the cheek he had dared to defile. "You came back before they…they…" Christine could not continue and Erik did not wish her to. Just to say the words out loud might have sent him into another violent frenzy.

"Then we will speak of it no more," he insisted, stroking her hand in a calming manner. "It is all over now and they will never harm you again, I have seen to that."

"What…what did you do?" she asked, her eyes growing wide, even if she could not see.

"Nothing lethal," Erik quickly assured her, not wishing to cause her to now fear him. "Though I will not lie and say it did not cross my mind," he muttered, the tone of his voice revealing his secret wish. "Yet they will not dare to try such a filthy stunt on any other women, I can guarantee it!"

"Thank you," Christine whispered. "I…I don't know what I would have done if you had not come back when you did."

"I do not deserve your gratitude," he told her with a sad shake of his head. "I should not have left you alone…no matter the reason. I should have been there to protect you."

"But you were," she insisted. "You stopped them…you _saved_ me."

"Yet it was _my_ responsibility to make sure you were never put in a situation like that in the first place!" Erik maintained, not yet willing to release himself from the guilt he was feeling. "And I will see that you never are again. I will protect you, Christine. I swear it." It made him feel a bit better when she smiled, nodding her head as if she believed his adamant words. That was half the battle, now he just needed to make sure he stayed true to his word. "Please, try and sleep, Christine," Erik told her, seeing just how tired she was. It was quite a bit later than she suspected, and her harrowing experience had surely pushed her to the point of exhaustion.

"Will you sing to me again?" she asked, pulling his hand that she still held towards her, resting it on top of the covers with no sign of letting go. "Your voice is so beautiful, Erik. I think I could sleep…but only if you sing to me."

"As you wish, my dear," Erik agreed, willing to do anything as an act of penance for the way he had failed her. "Now…close your eyes and try to rest."

He watched as she nodded in agreement and shut her eyes, turning her head to the side and relaxing against the pillow as he once more began a soothing song.

Erik lost track of the time, softly singing to her until long after her grip on his hand had loosened and her breathing became soft and regular. It felt good to know that his voice was helping, taking away the fear and replacing it with comfort and peace. He would have sung all night if she had asked him to, finding a measure of joy in the act as well, not realizing how much he had missed it. Oh, he still sang when he was alone, but for some reason, singing to someone… _to her_, was different. It was special.

When he at last finished, he stood up and walked over to her dressing table and pulled out the handful of candles he had pilfered from the store. Placing one of them in the holder, he lit the wick, watching it dance merrily before him as if it delighted in the privilege of keeping his angel's nightmares at bay. Then with one final look of longing, Erik slipped silently from her room and headed to the parlor. After removing his cape and hanging it up on the appropriate hook, he went to sit in his large overstuffed chair by the fire. He stared at the flames, watching them as if in a daze, trying desperately to get a handle on what had occurred that night. Guilt was still gnawing at his insides, berating him for the part he had played in the disaster. Christine may have forgiven him, but he wondered if _he_ ever could.

As he replayed the incident over and over, Erik dreamed up a dozen ways it could have been avoided. How he might have handled things differently. The most obvious being that he should have denied her request to accompany him and instead have gone to the opera house for the candles like he had originally planned. Yet he had surrendered to her request to see if she could be more daring…more independent. Erik further chastised himself for giving in, after all, had he not wished deep in his heart to keep her reliant on him? That she require his assistance, desire his care and remain at his side out of necessity? Well, after she had been so frightened by what she encountered above, he had certainly got his wish.

Erik leapt from his chair as a wave of panic washed over him. _Had that been his intention all along? _Had his subconscious somehow convinced him to leave her alone…to expose her to the fears of the outside world in hopes that she would come running back to him for protection? Erik began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, raking his hands through his hair as he contemplated this idea. Part of him denied the claim, saying he would never have done such a thoughtless deed, yet the other half - that darker side that he fought to keep buried - laughed wildly over his ultimate triumph. For Erik, the ends usually justified the means, never caring who got hurt in the process, as long as he got what he wanted.

Yet not with Christine…_right?_ He would never have dreamed up such a dangerous scheme, would he? Was he truly that evil, so completely wicked, just as everyone believed? What if he had not noticed her absence in time? What if those men had immediately taken her? Carried her off, kicking and screaming, while he wasted precious minutes inside the store? Once more he could feel his hatred surge to the fore as he thought of the three pigs with their filthy hands on Christine, touching her…hurting her!

_Did they not care that she was his?_

Erik was certain that many of his possessions would have met a very violent end right then, had it not been for the thought that he would further frighten Christine with the noise should he give in to his destructive desires. Instead he stood there with his eyes shut tight and his fists clenched, breathing through the pain and anger until he felt he could once again move about without destroying his home. Erik suddenly felt drained, void of all emotions except guilt. He did not know what to do. He hated to feel this way and all he wanted was for the ache to go away.

It was then that his thoughts turned towards the mind numbing drugs the Shah had given him so many years ago. They had dulled the pain, it was true, but they had dulled everything else as well. His thinking process, his creativity, his passion for music and his memories. Once he had freed himself from their debilitating effects, he had sworn that he would never fall under their manipulative spell again. Besides, the drugs had brought out the worst in him, leaving him angry and violent, ready to kill with hardly an ounce of provocation. He could not risk exposing Christine to that, simply for the chance to momentarily ease his feelings of remorse. No…he would never take such drugs again, especially not willingly!

So he sat down on the edge of his chair, and leaned forward, burying his head in his hands as he suffered through the pain unaided. He knew he had to find a way to make this right. If he had indeed subconsciously masterminded this whole thing in an attempt to make Christine dependent upon him, he should be punished! But how?

Suddenly, the perfect idea sprang to his mind, yet it also sent a cold shiver through his body at the thought. It was truly a horrendous punishment, one he knew would teach him a lesson he would not quickly forget. For the chance that he had indeed purposefully put his precious angel in danger, Erik would not go near any of his instruments or play a note of music until he felt he was properly chastised! He would impose self-denial on himself. It was the perfect form of torture, one he felt he truly deserved.

Erik sat back in his chair and tried to steady his breath, looking down at his hands that were already shaking. Would he be able to go through with it? Could he manage to stay away from his beloved music…even for a short period of time? If the almost sick feeling in his chest was any indication, he doubted it. Yet for Christine, he would prevail. This would ensure that he never dared to even think of such things again…even if he truly had not initiated the situation this time.

He could go without music…Erik knew he could. _He had before_. For over six months after being captured by the gypsies, he had not been allowed to touch a musical instrument or open his mouth in song. For while they had forced him to display his horrible face, he had not been willing to give them any more of himself for their wicked pleasure. Erik shut his eyes in pain as his mind disobediently began to drift back into the past, to a point in his life he only wished to forget.

~XXX~

The last time Erik could remember openly singing for anyone had _not_ been done willingly. It had never been his intention for his gypsy captors to discover his musical ability, but less than a year into his confinement, it was he himself who gave away his deepest secret.

He had been unusually stubborn during the past few shows, yelling and screaming at the crowds and refusing to show his face to the paying customers, no matter how free the master became with his cruel leather whip. So it was hardly a surprise when the enraged man stormed towards his cage later that night, with a few of his associates in tow. Erik fully expected to receive another vicious beating, like the last few times he had acted up, but quickly he sensed they had something more sinister in mind.

"Get in there and hold him down," the master snarled to the men, as he unlocked the cage door.

Terror gripped Erik's young heart as he scrambled to the corner, his already mutilated back pressing painfully against the rusty bars. He grabbed hold of the cold iron with all his might, praying his grip would deter the three men from whatever purpose they had in mind. It took quite a bit of effort from the two thugs, as well as a few punishing blows to his knuckles with a wooden stick before they were able to pry him free and wrestle him to the ground. By then Erik could see that the master was busy mixing some white powder from a leather pouch into a cup of water, watching the struggle with a measure of satisfaction as he stirred the concoction with a stick.

"Now, you worthless little runt, you will get a taste of what we do to an exhibit that doesn't know how to keep its mouth shut!" the burly gypsy said as he slowly walked forward, towering over Erik with an evil grin. "All that yelling and screaming of yours is driving away the customers and we can't have that now, can we? So I mixed you up a special little drink."

Erik was still not sure what was about to happen but a slight breeze suddenly kicked up, bringing the pungent odor from the cup to where his nose would have been - if he had one. He had no idea what the mixture was, but the way the caustic smell seemed to burn, he had every reason to believe it would certainly do the same to his throat!

Erik fought like a wild animal to free himself, deathly afraid of what the man intended to do, but the two other gypsies that held him down were far stronger than his young self.

"Won't that stuff eat through his innards and kill him?" one of them asked, as the master knelt down beside the thrashing boy.

"Not if I force him to vomit it right back up after it does the job on his throat," the master explained. "That way he will get a double dose on that voice box of his, once going down and a second time coming back up." He gave a cruel laugh over that, proud of his heartless joke. "I would never let this stay in his gut long enough to kill him, he is far too valuable just _looking_ like he is dead. He would be worthless to me if he really was! We'll just have to make sure to shovel enough food and water down him so he don't starve to death before his throat quits burning. Should take about a week before the pain starts to go away, but by then he will be as silent as the grave – much like the one you'd think we found him in." This last statement caused all three of them to chuckle, but far too soon they stopped their laughter and meant to proceed with their terrible form of punishment.

"NO!" Erik shouted, twisting his head from side to side as they attempted to grab his jaw and force it open. "Stop, please! I will be good, I swear!"

"Too little, too late, boy," the master growled. "Now hold still or I will add another beating to all this once I am done!"

"I…I can sing!" Erik blurted out, beyond desperate and not knowing what else to do.

"Sing?" the gypsy repeated, pulling the cup back as he stared down at the boy. "What do you mean?"

"I can sing… I will do it in the act if you just…just…don't make me drink that." Erik knew he had the man's attention; he only needed to prove the worth of his offer in order to save himself from a lifetime of silence.

"Show me," he ordered.

Erik shut his eyes, doing all he could to block out the pain and humiliation of being forced to reveal such a private part of himself this way. He would have rather stood naked in front of a crowd of spectators than offer up his joy of singing, but if he did not do so now, it was quite likely that he would never speak again. So opening his mouth, Erik began to sing, piercing the still night air with the most heavenly voice the three men from hell had ever heard. Erik had not even finished one verse before the master let out a roar of rage, grabbing hold of the boy's face with his meaty hand. He was sure the gypsy meant to pour the vile liquid down his throat anyway, but instead he had incurred his wrath for another reason.

"Damn you boy!" the master spat, saliva dripping down his chin as he practically foamed at the mouth. "All this time and you have been holding out on me? I could have been drawing in the crowds hand over fist if I had known about this sooner!" He released his hold on Erik's jaw and gave him a cuff upside the head before standing up. "Well no more! Every night from here on out, you will be singing for your supper, you miserable bag of bones. And if you ever dare to act up like that again, I don't care how well you can sing, I swear that I will pour a whole bucket of this stuff down your gullet! Do you understand boy?" When Erik remained silent, the master gave his foot a swift kick, watching him wince in pain. "ANSWER ME!"

"Yes…I understand," the boy replied in a meek tone, not daring to even look at him.

"Good, that is what I like to hear," the menacing gypsy grunted, taking the cup of pungent liquid and tossing it through the bars of the cage to the ground below. "Now, I need to go back to my tent and dream up how I will use this new little talent of yours. It will have to be something spectacular…something to amaze and astound a gullible audience." With that he signaled the other two men to release the boy and follow him out of the cage, locking it up tight as they went. "Get a good night's sleep, my little corpse," the master said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "For tomorrow, you will make me rich!" With an evil laugh that rang in Erik's ears long after they were gone, he was blessedly left alone.

Erik remained on the floor, lying there for a while before he slowly rolled to his side and stared down at the white foaming cup of liquid that had spilled out over the floor of the tent. He could still see a few wisps of noxious vapors coming from the concoction as it appeared to be eating its way through the trampled down straw that littered the ground. Erik shut his eyes tightly and curled his battered body into a tight little ball. They had defeated him at last. Utterly crushed him, until he had nothing left to cling to but that one small sliver of hope that he would someday see his Anna again…and even that tiny bit of faith was now stretched to the breaking point.

Tomorrow would truly begin his existence in hell.

~XXX~

Erik had not realized he had fallen asleep until the sound of someone pounding on his door woke him. He had spent the night wracked with nightmares, first reliving his time in the gypsy camp and then morphing to his imprisonment in Persia. As he sat up and felt his body protest the action, he wondered if the effects were due to his dreams or the fact he had slept sitting in his chair all night.

Even before he tripped the secret switch that would open the door, Erik knew exactly who would be standing on the other side and had his disgruntled greeting all prepared.

"Daroga, I am not in the mood for your…" Erik began as the door swung open, but the blustering, red faced man quickly cut him off, spitting out his accusing question as if he were about to explode.

"Erik, what the hell happened last night?!" Amir shouted.

* * *

**Oh poor little Erik! Thankfully he avoided that horrible fate and his marvelous voice stayed intact.**

**Oh dear, now Erik is going to force himself to not sing or play as a punishment...Erik are you INSANE? If not, lack of music will drive you there fast!**

**And Christine loved his voice, now that she knows it was him singing to her in her dreams. That will buy him some points!**

**Amir! Don't yell at Erik...he has had a really tough night!**

**CONTEST TIME: Ok, just so you don't think I am too much of a horrible person to have dreamed up that thing the gypsy was going to do, whomever can tell me where I got that idea about them pouring lye (since that is what I think they were going to use) down Erik's throat, will win a free snippet. I will give you a hint. It came from a very popular, hour long TV show that ran in the 70s and 80s. **


	22. Chapter 22

_**SURPRISE BONUS CHAPTER!**_

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**Why? To make up for the sad little Erik part in the last one. :(**

**BUT...PLEASE don't forget to review for both chapters! If I see that a lot of you skip chapter 21 and just review this one, I won't be so willing to double post again. **

**So make sure you send in TWO reviews...thanks!**

**.**

**Now here you go!**

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**Chapter 22**

**The Blame Game**

* * *

"Care to explain this, Erik?" Amir bellowed, slapping a folded up newspaper against Erik's chest as he stormed past him and into the parlor. There he spied a few glasses and a decanter of brandy, immediately pouring himself a shot without asking. Once he had downed his first glass he poured a second one, turning around just in time to see Erik walking in behind him, his eyes scanning the paper as he read the headline. "That's right, just look what it says! Opera Ghost Attacks. Three men in critical condition after encounter. Please tell me that was not truly you!"

"It was me," Erik mumbled still reading the fine print below the condemning headline.

"Damn you, Erik! You promised that you had left your murderous ways behind in Persia!" Amir berated him, downing his second drink the same as the first. He then collapsed in the nearest chair and began to massage his temples as if a splitting headache had suddenly come upon him. "You promised," he all but moaned, now more despondent than angry.

"What was I supposed to do, Daroga?" Erik asked, his tone now infused with hatred after reading the lies the three 'victims' claimed took place. Conveniently there was no mention of how they had attempted to accost an innocent lady, oh no, for that would not paint the proper picture of the Opera Ghost. Not at all! "I had no choice but to subdue these villains!"

"Subdue? It says you almost strangled one, drove a knife in the second and the third could have been paralyzed had you struck him any harder. Why, Erik?" the disappointed Persian begged to know. "Did they insult you in some way? Had they dared to make mention of your mask? Perhaps they offended your trained ear by singing a note out of pitch? Why?"

"Because they were attempting to…to violate Christine!" Erik growled, disgust showing in his eyes and tone as he spoke the words. "Would you prefer I simply stood back and allowed them free rein?" He was careful to keep his voice low, not wishing to wake his sleeping angel, but his tone held enough venom to cause Amir to pull back in shock and go unnaturally white.

"They…what?" he gasped. "Christine…how…why…?" he was trying to form a complete sentence but his mind could not seem to wrap itself around any one particular thought.

"Why does any perverted piece of scum desire a woman as lovely and innocent as she?" Erik continued, throwing the erroneous paper into the fireplace where it quickly turned black and withered away to nothing. "They found her alone, afraid and defenseless! They had her cornered against a tree, begging them to leave her alone while they continued to press her for sexual favors. If I had not been there to protect her, God only knows what those depraved animals would have done!"

"Erik…I had no idea," Amir admitted, his tone now one of disbelief and not blame. "Why on earth was she out on the streets in the first place? Why was she left alone?"

Here Erik's blustering faltered, his eyes closed as he turned away and placed his balled fist over his aching heart. The Persian watched as the imposing man seemed to crumble in front of his eyes, sitting down on the edge of the couch as he leaned forward and placed his head in his hands.

"It was my fault," he moaned. "I…I had to leave her outside alone while I broke into a store to get some candles."

"Candles?" the Daroga questioned.

"Christine requires that a candle be lit each night in her room before bed." Erik realized how silly this sounded and from the perplexed look on Amir's face he felt the need to explain further. "She can hear the candle's flame and smell the melting wax. It comforts her to know there is a light in the room as she sleeps."

"I see…I suppose that makes a degree of sense," the Persian agreed. "Please, continue."

"I underestimated my stock of them and when I found my supply was gone I was forced to make a trip above to procure more. Christine insisted on going with me. It was to be her first outing among people since her accident, a test you might say, to find out if she could once again be brave. I could not take her into the store with me, for obvious reasons, so I left her sitting happily on a bench outside listening to music from some nearby restaurant. I was only inside for a few minutes, hardly enough time for me to gather what I needed, yet when I looked back to where she had been…Christine was gone!" Erik explained. "I ran outside to find those three men had corralled her against a nearby tree and were making lewd and inappropriate demands upon her person." He then raised his head and gave his guest a look of absolute pain. "She was crying, Daroga! They were terrifying her…they dared to touch her and made her cry! I had to stop them…I had to do something!"

"Of course you did!" Amir barked out, suddenly just as riled up as Erik had been. "How dare they! Those beasts!" The Persian was now on his feet and pacing around the room in anger. "I thought the whole scenario sounded oddly suspicious…even for you."

"And yet you stormed down here and accused me of all the lies that paper wrote, taking their testimony to heart even before hearing my side of things!" Erik reproached, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow, though he was quite sure his companion could not see it.

"Well…yes, that is true," Amir admitted with an embarrassed shrug. "However…it is you we are talking about, after all."

Erik opened his mouth to protest and then shut it; the Persian did have a valid point.

"Still, I would appreciate you giving me the benefit of the doubt next time," he grumbled, still looking quite forlorn.

"Was Christine harmed?" Amir asked, sitting back down as he scrutinized the masked man before him. He could tell there was more to this story than he had let on, something Erik was reluctant to talk about.

"Of course she was harmed! They scared her to death!" Erik hissed, his anger surfacing once more.

"But physically?" Amir pressed. Erik's explanation was a bit vague and he knew the masked man had a penchant to overreact at times, so he decided it was best to ask his question point blank.

"No…they left no physical marks, yet mentally she was devastated." Erik insisted. "She cried all the way back as I carried her in my arms like a little child."

"The poor girl," Amir nodded, deeply grieved to hear it.

"I blame myself," Erik responded quietly. "It was all my fault."

"I am sure that is an exaggeration," Amir disagreed, shaking his head. But when Erik turned his eyes away with a guilty expression, it made him wonder. "Erik…what are you not telling me?"

Erik was quiet for a moment, not sure if he should broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind. And yet, if anything, he knew the Daroga would speak the truth and be more than willing to lay blame where it belonged. Perhaps a scathing reprimand from Amir would make him feel better.

"I…I think I might have orchestrated the whole thing!" Erik all but wailed, sounding miserable and mortified. "Over the past few days I had begun to feel that Christine was becoming too independent…no longer needing me as much. What if I subconsciously planned for something like this to happen in order to keep her tethered to me? Why else would I have dared to leave her unprotected…alone on the street like that? What kind of monster would do such a thing?"

"Erik," Amir began, his voice sounding almost exasperated. "Only you could turn this around so that you were to blame. Do you honestly mean to tell me that you somehow arranged for these men to accost Christine while you had your back turned?"

"Certainly not!" Erik gasped, shocked that he would even suggest such a thing.

"And once you saw that she was in trouble, did you stand back and do nothing? Allow them to frighten her further?" he pressed.

"Of course not! I immediately dealt with them in the manner which such filth deserves!" he stated, a touch of villainous pride entering his voice as he thought of how the three men had begged for mercy.

"Then I hardly think you organized any of it," Amir declared. "Simply because you allowed your mind to think a bad thought, does not mean you acted on it or caused it to come to fruition. You are not that powerful, no matter how much you wish to portray the Opera Ghost as such."

"Well, now you are just trying to insult me!" Erik growled, trying his best to appear offended.

However, Amir could see by the way his masked companion's shoulders dropped just a bit that his words had given him a measure of relief. He still realized that it would be some time before Erik was able to let this go, however. And this notion was solidified by his next words.

"Nevertheless, I intend to properly punish myself for such ungracious thoughts," he stated firmly, recalling his resolution from the previous night. "I have forbidden myself from playing, writing or listening to any form of music for the foreseeable future. It is a just and fair reprimand that I intend to enforce upon myself." At this Erik sat up straight, determination showing in his eyes as he spoke, assuring the Persian that he would indeed follow through with his ridiculous plan.

"Merciful Allah," Amir said with an exasperated sigh. "You have to be the most trying man on the planet. Why on earth did I ever take on the job of being your keeper?"

"I have been asking myself that for quite some time now," Erik replied, deadly serious. "I have yet to stumble upon even one logical explanation."

"Regardless," Amir huffed, waving him off, "you are foolish to take on so much responsibility when the true blame clearly lies with those three deviants! I am not without connections in this town, Erik. I shall have them all brought up on charges and see them rot in jail for what they did!"

"Please don't," came a sad little voice from the doorway, causing the two men to leap to their feet and face the pleading girl. "I…I just wish to forget the whole incident. Please do not pursue this further, Monsieur Amir."

Both Erik and Amir visibly flinched, half from the pain in her voice and half from the embarrassment of allowing her to sneak up on them a second time. For a blind girl, she was surprisingly stealthy.

"But Christine," the Persian persisted. "They deserve no less for what they did. They need to pay for their crimes!"

"From what I heard going on around me last night, I believe Erik exacted more than adequate retribution," she insisted, recalling the cries of pain and fear coming from the men as they were dealt with by her humble hero.

"Only a fraction of what they truly deserved," Erik huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as Amir gave him a scolding look.

"You put three men in the hospital, Erik," the Persian pointed out. "That is nothing to be proud of."

"They are fortunate I did not put them in the morgue!" he shot back.

"Erik, do not even joke about such things," Christine begged, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "I am simply grateful that you had been there to save me and I never wish to speak of them again." She then turned her head towards where Amir stood, her hands wringing a small handkerchief as she spoke. "If you attempt to bring them to justice, who is to say they will not in turn level charges against Erik? I will not have my kind and gracious host put to such pains just for protecting me. Please, Monsieur, I beg of you, just let it lie."

Erik and Amir once again shared pointed looks, both not sure which road to take. In the end, they silently agreed that if it was Christine's wish, they would honor it.

"Very well, Mademoiselle," Amir granted with a sigh. "I will not seek retribution if you do not wish me to. Yet please allow me to express my most sincere regrets over your harrowing experience. I am certain your next outing will not prove so…unpleasant."

"Thank you, Monsieur, I appreciate your kindness and your cooperation," Christine replied, lowering her head as she gave a shuddering sigh of relief. "Yet…I rather think it will be some time before I wish to venture back up to the city again."

"Back up?" Amir asked, his eyes darting from Christine to Erik questioningly. "You…you are aware of your current location then?"

"Yes, Erik has explained that his home is underground, as well as the reasons he needs to sequester himself below," she quietly assured him.

This caused Amir's eyes to grow even wider and he gave Erik a pointed stare, quite shocked that he would reveal his deepest secrets to her like that. Yet, from the way Erik's eyes narrowed and he quickly shook his head, the Persian understood that the entire truth had not been laid bare after all. Amir would have to tread carefully in conversation with the young girl until he got the whole story from Erik's own lips.

"Yes…well, that is…good," he mumbled, giving a helpless shrug when Erik rolled his eyes over his lack of eloquence.

Thankfully Christine did not appear to notice Amir's discomfort, and Erik could see that he needed to get Amir out and gone, before Christine burst into tears.

"Didn't you say you had someplace you needed to be this morning, Daroga?" The scathing look of death that accompanied the statement was not lost on Amir and with a quick nod of understanding, he wisely played along.

"That is right, I completely forgot," he agreed, as he began walking towards the doorway. "Thank you for reminding me, Erik." As he walked past Christine, he stopped and placed a comforting hand on her arm. "I look forward to seeing you again, my dear, when I next visit." He then leaned in a bit closer as he lowered his voice, though he knew full well that Erik could still hear every word. "In the meantime, I would suggest that you stay very close to Erik, and do not leave his sight. It is highly unfair, but a sad fact nonetheless, that unscrupulous men of this world like to prey on those who cannot defend themselves. And while you are far from helpless, I would suggest you do not turn down the safety and protection our friend here can offer you. Understand?"

"I do, Monsieur," she nodded, still on the verge of tears. "Thank you."

When Amir turned towards Erik, he almost burst out laughing at the complete and utter look of shock in the masked man's eyes, his mouth slightly agape over the Persian's complimentary words. He could tell that Erik was struggling for an explanation over his unexpected urgings, but was unable to voice his questions at the moment because Christine was right there. In response, the Daroga simply chose to give him a slight shrug before turning to leave, once more having to wait for his host to open the secret door so he could exit.

"I will be back next week for our usual visit, unless I see a need to return sooner," Amir warned sternly, leaving no doubt in Erik's mind that his Persian conscience would continue to take his job seriously.

"I will do my best to remain out of the papers," Erik huffed.

"And don't forget to make an appearance at the opera house now and again as well," Amir whispered, keeping his voice low so Christine would not overhear. "Monique says that you have been unusually absent as of late and the managers are becoming a bit…shall we say… brave, and are starting to think they are in charge of things up above."

Once more Erik raised a skeptical eyebrow. First the Daroga instructs Christine to show trust in him and now he was encouraging him to further establish his control over the opera house? If Erik did not know any better, he might have thought he was still dreaming.

"Nothing big or dangerous, of course," Amir continued, noting Erik's stunned look. "Just enough to make me feel that my frequent visits to Monique's bedchamber to gain information are worth my time." His last statement was accompanied by a wide and devilish grin. "After all, we need to have something to discuss after a night of passion."

"Out, Daroga!" Erik growled, tired of his endless bragging over his sexual exploits.

"See you again, Christine," he called over his shoulder as he left, chuckling to himself.

That man must truly have a death wish, Erik thought to himself.

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Erik made his way back to the parlor and found Christine still standing in the entryway where he had left her. He could feel his heart grip in his chest at the way she appeared on the verge of falling apart. She was so fragile and delicate, causing Erik to wish to protect her. She had asked that they no longer speak of the incident, yet he did not feel comfortable letting it drop so suddenly, thinking it best that she work out her demons, lest they overcome her.

"Christine, are you truly all right?" he questioned, standing directly in front of her, yet noting that she would not lift her eyes to his. "I know you told Amir you did not wish to discuss it further, but I am here to listen if you feel the need to talk."

Erik had imagined several things might happen from his offer. Christine could have declined his request or simply left the room in heart-wrenching sobs - and both would have been viable reactions. Yet when she instead lunged forward and slipped her arms around his torso, gripping him firmly as she laid her cheek against his chest, Erik just about fell over. Not from the force of the impact, but instead from the onslaught of emotions the sudden contact ignited.

"Th-th-thank you, Erik!" she sobbed, her voice muffled by the fact that her face was now buried in his suit jacket. Her words and shuddered breaths caused slight vibrations to surge through him and he shut his eyes and tipped his head back at the unexpected pleasure they caused. "And…and I do not mean just for last night, though I will never be able to find a way to repay you for saving me from those…those horrible men." She paused there for a moment until she could regain her composure a bit, her tears still flowing but at least she could speak clearly. "I owe you for so much more. F-f-for taking me in like you did…and caring for me so well…even though you had no earthly reason to do so. You have been so kind to me, and I feel completely inadequate to express my appreciation in a way you deserve. So…thank you, Erik. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Somewhere during her words of gratitude, time had suddenly stopped for Erik and in that eternity of frozen moments he took the time to savor every new sensation that was currently bombarding him. His attention was at first centered on the warmth of her body, the feel of something so soft and cozy being pressed against him had left him breathless. Her arms were like two silk ribbons now tied around him as she squeezed with the most gentle of pressure. Her alabaster cheek, which was now fitted to his chest, was causing his nerve endings to explode in that one little spot, almost like a lightning storm going off inside him. And the rest of her petite frame…well, it was safe to say that Erik would be making full use of the lake outside his home again. And quite soon! Erik was again trapped between heaven and hell and for once in his life, he was happy to be there.

Slowly though, time caught up with him and he was faced with the knowledge that he should reply to her sincere words of appreciation. The question was…could he?

"You…you are very…welcome, Christine," he sputtered, doing his best to sound at least partially sane. She made no attempt to disentangle herself from him, and as the seconds ticked on, Erik became bold and did something he thought he would never be allowed to do. He felt his trembling arms leave his side and make their way up to touch her back as light as a feather. Oh, it was bliss, pure bliss! When she let out a small sigh at the contact, even nestling in a bit closer, Erik thought his legs would surely give way and cause him to sink to the ground. Using just a bit more pressure, he pulled her to him in what he remembered a true hug felt like. His mind raced back to the early days of his childhood…Anna used to hold him like this. Well, not exactly like this, but close.

They remained in this state for an eternity…or was it only seconds? Erik had completely lost track of time and space with his little angel in his arms. Yet her next words brought him back to reality.

"Would…would you truly have killed those men, Erik?" she asked, still not moving from the wonderful embrace.

Erik fought his instincts that told him to lie to her, to tell her what he thought she wished to hear and not the wicked truth. Yet with his arms wrapped around her, he knew he could speak no falsehood. He had already lied to her enough, and look where it had gotten him!

"I would have happily ended each and every one of their miserable lives if it would have eased your pain, Christine," he admitted. "Yet…I knew that it would only cause you more grief in the long run…so I let them live."

"I…I am glad you did," she nodded, her slight movement once more causing a delicious amount of friction against his chest. "Not for their sakes…but for yours. I would have hated myself if you had been forced to do such a terrible thing on my account."

"I would do anything to protect you, Christine," Erik assured her, reaching up and stroking her hair with his trembling hand. "Anything."

The silence overtook them once more until Erik became aware of how her body had gone slack in his arms and he imagined that she was completely exhausted, hardly able to remain standing without his aid.

"Let's get you back to bed, my dear," he urged, reluctant to end their tender embrace, yet knowing he needed to think of her first. With one arm around her waist for support and the other holding her hand, Erik maneuvered her back to her room and sat her on the bed. Going to the dresser he extracted a nightdress and brought it back over to her, realizing that she had never changed her outfit from the previous night. "You put this on and get back in bed. I will then bring you something to eat."

"I am not hungry," she muttered, fisting the nightgown in her hands as she spoke.

"Christine, I will not see you starve yourself again, is that clear?" he ordered, instantly going down on one knee, but adopting a firm tone as he spoke. "Do not let those men take any more from you than they already have! You are stronger than that, I know you are. You will eat, you will sleep…and tomorrow you will resume your life. They will not win, Christine…do not allow it!" He waited for a response, yet no words or nod of agreement came, only silent tears that ran down her cheeks and dropped onto the nightgown she held. After a moment Erik gave a heavy sigh and stood up, walking towards the door on his way to fetch her the breakfast he promised. He wondered if he should make something light, since there was a good chance it would end up decorating the walls again. Yet, just before he exited, Erik was halted by Christine's meek voice.

"Erik," she called after him, making him stop and turn back to face her. "I…I won't let them win." He watched her chin come up as she wiped at the tears. "I am strong…or at least I hope I am. But if that is true…it is only because of you. I will always be strong…if you are by my side." She then looked down at her hands once more. "Just…maybe tomorrow…all right?"

Erik gave a sigh of relief, a weight lifting from his shoulders as she spoke. He would have done anything to prevent her from harming herself again, even going so far as to force feed her if she had stubbornly refused nourishment. He would have kept her alive…he would have found a way. Thankfully, he did not have to contemplate such drastic procedures, for his little angel just proved she had wings of steel.

"Tomorrow is more than fine, Christine," he assured her. "Tomorrow is perfect." With that he left the room and shut the door behind him, giving her the privacy she needed to get undressed. Erik then walked into the kitchen and just stood there in the middle of the room for a long time. Then, without any warning, his legs gave out on him and he sank to the floor on his knees. He was already shaking uncontrollably before his first tear made its way from under his mask.

"Oh, Christine," he moaned, one hand resting over his heart while he kept the other braced against his thigh for support. She had held him…Christine had placed her arms around his body and held him so very tight! He had never known such delight and even now he could still feel her tender embrace, warm and tangible against his cold skin. How had he lived without such a thing all these years? He now realized that he had only been half alive, never fully there until she had come into his life and filled that empty void. Erik only prayed that she could come to need him half as much as he now desperately needed her.

As he sat there on the kitchen floor, lost in his own tears, Erik knew for a certainty that if he were to lose her now…it would kill him for sure!

* * *

**Awwwww, that was better...right? All will be back to normal tomorrow. Or, as soon as Erik grows a brain and starts singing again!**

**Amir was so sweet, he is really taking a shine to Christine...in a strictly platonic way!**

**For those of you who are worried about the letter...Um...I think Erik forgot he has it! But he is rather distracted about it, so just put it out of your mind...he has.**

**Erik got a hug! He will now need at least till Wednesday to recover from THAT!**

**So who is your favorite author who gives you double posts?**


	23. Chapter 23

** WE HAVE A WINNER...well, we have TWO winners! The answer was Little House on the Prairie. In the episode, Mr. Edwards adopts a mute boy who had been fed lye that ruined his voice. He had been put in a circus show and displayed at the "Wild Boy" (also the name of the episode) much like our darling Erik had once been. So sad.**

**ArdentAngel** is the one who wins the free snippet for guessing correctly! Congratulations!

**PhantomChristine** \- a guest reviewer, came up with the answer as well, but since I can not give her a snippet (you can't send PMs to guests) I am going to give HER the power to tell me when I should post the next Surprise Bonus Chapter instead. Whenever she says I should...you will ALL get it. OK? So write me and tell me when you want it sent out, Miss PhantomChristine...but, remember, with great power, comes great responsibility. Use it wisely.

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**Guest Reviews:**

**TheRebbs98:** I missed answering your review of chapter 20...sorry, here it is now - I think we all like protective Erik and he will do more of that as the story progresses. He should have done more than just scare them...but Christine needed him so he had to stop. yah, I think she will be a 'home body' for a while.

**Lovedit:** Good observation, since most of the time during Music of the Night, Christine has her eyes closed, ha ha. and yes, there is a lot of metaphorical stuff in there with his mask, deformity, his hiding it and her sight being taken away. That is some deep though! And of course that day will come...after all, the story is called "Seeing is Believing" ha ha. And funny you should ask if she will wonder what Erik looks like, that is coming up very soon! Amir is a kick in the pants, huh!? Thank you for your wonderfuly long and insightful review! Keep them coming!

**EC4ever:** What does Amir always want...ANSWERS! ha ha.

**Mystery:** No...they are not getting shorter...I swear. BUT I did give you two, so that should count for something. Yah, Raoul will be coming along later. I hope you were able to collect your feels that went all over the place. Hey, don't go silent on me now just because Erik is distracted and can't remember that letter is still in his cloak! Don't punish ME! (and was that with enough speed for you...and even if you didn't notice it till much later... it WAS there!)

**PhantomChristine:** Awwww, sorry I made you sad and weepy. And I do very much concider it a compliment...of the highest degree! I think you should make very good use of your punjab lasso on those evil gypsies. I loved how you not only guessed the show, but described the episode as well. Nice!

**Veryinteresting:** You are very welcome. Nope, still not posted the letter. Even though it was sad, I am glad you felt I wrote it well. Yikes...then would NOT have been a good time for her to regain her sight...no way. Yes, I must agree a magical wizard woudl have been nice...just VERY out of character for the story. ha ha.

**syrianlight:** No one liked what was almost done to Erik...LEAST OF ALL HIM! I think they are all dead and gone by now, and perhaps even by Erik's hands or his own personal hired assassins. But that is only my opinion. Erik is trying to atone for his mistakes, but he sure picked a lue-lue of a way to do it. Amir will shoosh...when Erik MAKES him. ha ha. Erik likes cuddles. So with a daring rescue, a pushy Persian dropping in and now a full on hug...no wonder Erik can't remember a letter...or a music box. ha ha. Awwww, Erik nursing his tea and staring into the fire as he huddles in his chair. May I join him?

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**Chapter 23**

**Curious Emotions**

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The remainder of the day Christine did indeed stay huddled in her bed, surfacing only to eat and use the facilities. Erik let her be – allowing her this needed time to recuperate. He did of course light her candle before bed time and took up his nightly vigil in the chair by her door, in case of nightmares. This had greatly concerned Erik, for with his imposed restrictions in place, he feared that he might not be able to soothe Christine back to sleep without breaking his rule of no singing. Thankfully, her night was relatively calm and when she did become mildly restless he was able to calm her down with only speaking to her, so he was not forced to go back on his punishment.

True to her word, the next morning when Erik came to knock on her door, Christine was up and dressed, waiting for him to escort her to breakfast. Granted, he could tell that her smile was a bit forced and some of her mannerisms had reverted back to how she had been just after her accident, but Erik could tell she was trying and that meant the world to him. She was less willing to venture out on her own throughout the house, preferring to stay close and allow him to do more for her than she had over the past several days. Erik did not mind this at all, even though it caused a new wave of guilt due to the fact he inadvertently got his wish, that she be less independent. For that he silently cursed himself many times over the next few days.

As the day wore on, Christine did improve but he knew that it would take some time before she would stop jumping at every noise and shadow…so to speak. When he was reading to her that evening, he could see that she was only partially paying attention to what he was saying. Her sightless gaze was focused elsewhere and from the expression on her face, Erik could only imagine her mind was back at that bench in the city above. Oh, how he longed to sneak out, locate those three bastards and finish the job he had started the night before! He could easily do so, all it would take was a flick of his wrist and his Punjab lasso would make quick work of their pitiful necks, leaving Christine none the wiser. Yet he would know…as well as that snoopy Persian, of that he was certain. He also understood that doing away with those men in such a violent manner would not truly make Christine happy or take away her fears, and he did so very much wish to please her. No, it was best he obey her wishes, let the matter drop and just hope his deadly threats kept those men on the straight and narrow…once they recovered from their injuries and were released from the hospital, that is. Erik took some comfort in the idea he had left a memorable impression.

When she at last began to yawn, Erik sent Christine in to change for bed, promising to come in soon to light her candle. He was just straightening up the parlor and putting away the book he had been reading, when he heard her quiet little feet padding back out. Turning, he looked at her questioningly, noting her almost embarrassed stance as she fiddled with the ribbon at the waistline of her dress.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" he asked, perplexed by her reappearance.

"I…was getting ready for bed," she began, her eyes never lifting to look directly at him. "And it…seems that I…what I mean is…"

Erik could see that her face was now crimson with embarrassment, yet Erik could not understand why.

"Yes, Christine?" Erik prompted, unsure how to alleviate her concerns if she did not confide in him what they were.

"It…it would appear that I…well…I am in need of some supplies for…" This is where she stopped, unable to go on, and the realization of what she was trying so hard not to say hit Erik like a ton of bricks. Leaving him extremely thankful that she had not been able to speak such things out loud.

"Say no more!" he quickly instructed, silently praying that she would indeed say no more! "In the lavatory, in the second drawer of the cabinet, you will find the…supplies to take care of your…situation." Or at least he prayed they would. If that blasted Persian got the wrong items, resulting in further conversation over this delicate matter, he would kill him without hesitation!

"There is?" Christine asked, her head coming up in shock and confusion. "But how did you…?"

"Never mind how," Erik insisted, beginning to fidget. He was certain that the last thing she wished to hear was that Amir had been involved in all this, having been the one to alert him of her special needs. "Suffice it to say, they are there and we need not speak of it further."

Christine stood there for a moment more, her expression still that of wonderment, but soon she gave a very brief smile, a quick word of thanks and headed back to her room. Erik sank into his chair and let out a long sigh of relief.

One more major crisis averted.

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As promised, Erik did indeed come in to light her candle for the night, even if it was much later than usual, deciding it was wise to give her plenty of time to finish her ablutions and crawl into bed. When he slipped in, Christine was already dressed and under the covers, her back leaning against the headboard as she waited patiently for him to enter. He found it very difficult to even look in her direction as he set to work, striking the match and making the little wick come alive. He was just about to leave when he heard her voice, stopping him in his tracks.

"Erik?" she called.

"Yes, Christine?" He dared not turn around, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"I am sorry to be so much trouble to you," she began, her back stiff and her hands folded neatly in her lap, revealing just how nervous and uncomfortable she was. "I often fear that I am imposing on your good nature with all my tedious needs and requests. I am sure you must be getting rather weary of having me here, taking up all your time and keeping you from your work."

"No! Never!" Erik blurted out as he spun around, not wishing for her to entertain such an idea even for a moment. "You could never…I mean, I don't feel that way at all! You are welcome to stay here as long as you like…forever even!" He could feel the heat rising in his face over his rather forward statement. He had meant everything he said; he had just not intended to express himself in such an odd or fervent manner. Erik was now panicked over how she would take his inexcusable slip of the tongue. Yet instead of growing embarrassed or offended, she only lowered her eyes.

"Be careful, Monsieur," she warned, her voice now hardly above a whisper. "I just might take you up on that offer." Then, as if she had shocked herself with her own admission, she hastily bid him goodnight and scooted down under the covers, turning away from him so that he could no longer see the color rising to her cheeks.

Erik too mumbled his wishes that she have pleasant dreams and left the room, standing outside her door as he tried to process her words. Had she truly meant them? Would she stay down here with him forever? The idea both thrilled him…and scared him to death. He was excited for the obvious reason, for he reveled in her presence, her smiles and her companionship. Yet there was that darker side of him, always lurking dangerously close to the surface, telling him that eventually such innocent things would no longer be enough. That with more time would come a deeper longing…a need that he could not deny. Yet even her tantalizing admission was not enough to allow him to put faith in such an idea, for what woman, blind or otherwise, would ever consent to being …intimate with him? Christine was still blissfully unaware of the fact that her protector was a hideous monster, one that would be the subject of her nightmares if she only knew the truth. He had kept his mask, as well as his past, a closely guarded secret and he lived in constant fear that she would one day discover the truth about both. He just had to make sure this did not happen…that she never discovered his lies. For on the day that she did…Christine would surely be lost to him forever.

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Once she heard Erik shut the door, Christine rolled over on her back and lay there, alone and quiet, listening to the gentle sputter of the candle. It was amazing how many things she could hear, now that her sight had been stolen away. She had never noticed the tiny flicker of a candle before, but now it was like a soothing lullaby to her, as she drifted off to sleep each night. Yet there had been another kind of music in her head as well. Each morning since she woke in Erik's underground home, she had fleeting memories of a heavenly voice singing to her in her sleep. She had always felt they had to be remnants of a dream, lingering somewhere in the back of her mind. Yet she had been wrong…the songs had been from Erik!

Had he truly employed his amazing voice each night to chase away the bad dreams she often recalled having? For after he had sung to her the other night, following her horrible experience, Christine had instantly recognized his soothing, ethereal voice. The one she had never believed could belong to anything other than an angel. Oh, there were no words to describe the feelings his music evoked in her, the longing, the almost aching need to hear it again. Many times she had woken from her sleep, desperate to return to her slumbering state just for the chance to hear that entrancing voice once again. It was nothing short of addictive!

Yet why had he done this…or the many other kindnesses he had bestowed upon her, for that matter? It was obvious that Erik suffered from loneliness, no matter how much he tried to hide the fact. She recognized that his aloofness and his foul temper, especially with Monsieur Amir, were a direct result of being forced to hide beneath the surface of the earth in order to live somewhat comfortably. When he had told her of the affliction he suffered from, the one that caused him to avoid daylight, she had felt true pity for him. To never be allowed to enjoy the sun or its cheerful rays was truly tragic…yet, the irony was, Christine feared she would never see such things again herself. What a pair they made. He could not go out in the sun and she could no longer see it.

She felt her face blush once more as her mind drifted to the bold and unladylike statement she had just made before Erik left. Would this night's humiliation never end? First she had to broach the subject of her monthly cycle, for what else could she do? When she discovered her predicament, she had practically worn a hole in the floor pacing back and forth with worry over what to do. It was certainly not anything she could ignore and she had no way of acquiring the needed supplies herself. And while it was the last thing in the world she wished to do, she realized her only option was to once again impose on Erik's kindly nature and just pray he did not run screaming into the night over her mortifying request. Thankfully, she did not have to go into much detail before he stopped her with the shocking revelation that he had already seen to her needs. Once again he had completely stunned her with not only his thoughtfulness but his ingenuity as well. When had he done all this…and how? When Christine had searched the drawer he had informed her held what she needed, she had been surprised by the sheer number of items found there as she felt around. Had he grossly overestimated her monthly requirement…or had he simply not wished to go through the embarrassing job of purchasing such items again? In the end, it really didn't matter and she was certainly not about to ask for details.

Then, just when she had felt she might be able to speak to him again without too much humiliation, he had to go and offer her a home here with him…forever, or so he had said. Yet there was no possible way he could have meant such a ridiculous thing. A man like Erik Trouville did not need some foolish blind girl taking up residence in his home or his life. And while she had been feeling more and more at ease within these walls, deep down she knew the time would eventually come when she must stop hiding and venture out in search of a new life. Yet she felt safe here, safe with Erik taking care of her…and she dreaded leaving this cozy sanctuary.

However, dread was not the only emotion Christine was fighting. Something else had begun to stir within her mind, and while she was still not sure how to process it all, she found that feeling often made her smile. Especially when she thought of how he had so bravely saved her when she had been accosted by those three men. While she had been terrified by their words and presence, somehow she had never doubted that Erik would come to her rescue. Maybe she had been with him long enough to recognize that he was not the type to let her down, or perhaps just like a hero in a storybook, she knew Erik was bound to save the day. And to her infinite joy…he did! She could not admire him more if he were dressed in a suit of armor and riding a white horse.

Not that Christine had any idea what Erik truly looked like, though she had often thought of asking for his description. Did he have blue eyes and blond hair…or was he as dark and sultry as his voice suggested, sporting a thick ebony mane and smoldering eyes? From the few times he had carried her in his arms, and when she had so brazenly hugged him, Christine had felt that he was of a sturdy build. He was not overly muscular though, more whipcord and wiry, but very strong nonetheless. He was also quite tall, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders, yet she could feel that he carried himself with grace and dignity. Still, none of that truly mattered, what did was that he showed genuine concern for her wellbeing and happiness, something no other man had ever done before…other than her father. Could this be why she found herself smiling when she thought of him, or why her insides twisted into knots when she had hugged him the previous day? She truly hoped Erik did not think her forward or too bold due to her sudden need for human contact - she had simply been overcome by emotions and it was the only thing she could think of to do at the time. Christine also prayed that he had not noticed the way she trembled when he wrapped his own arms around her in return. If he did, Erik had said nothing, allowing her to retain her dignity.

Yet then, she had to go and prove herself a fool and say those silly words about staying forever, embarrassing herself, as well as him she was certain. Christine needed to be more careful with her declarations, not allowing herself to blurt out things that were best kept inside. No more foolish talk, she scolded herself…she could not afford to make her host uncomfortable. Especially when she still did not understand her own feelings…yet. Christine only hoped in time things would be made more clear - figuratively speaking.

In the meantime she needed to gather her wits and try to find a use for herself. Singing on stage might have been taken from her, but there had to be something else she could do. Erik had done much to help her find a new path…it was time she showed her appreciation and chose one. And while that was all easier said than done, she had to try. So rolling over on her side she gave a heavy sigh as she drifted off to sleep, visions of a dashing knight on a white horse teasing at her mind.

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Two more days passed and Erik was definitely feeling the effects of his self-imposed punishment. Every time he walked past his organ, piano or violin, his hands began to twitch and he could feel his body breaking out in a cold sweat. His eyes drifted to his desk where several slightly crumpled sheets of blank staff paper taunted him mercilessly. If he had ever considered this reprimand too lenient, he was certainly not feeling that way now. The effects of his self-denial was reminding him more and more of the painful symptoms he suffered when ridding himself of the drugs the Shah had forced upon him. Back then he had used his music as a distraction from the withdrawals, but this time he was forbidden those soothing methods…and all because he had made that his punishment! The worst part was when Christine asked him to play for her, even going so far as to beg him to sing her a song before bed. Yet, each time he would hem and haw before quickly changing the subject or distracting her with some other activity, praying that she would not bring it up again. Unfortunately she always did, and by his fourth day without music, his patience and temper were wearing thin. Especially when, during a lull in conversation, Christine once more broached the subject.

"Erik, would you play for me?" she asked in the most kind and torturous voice imaginable. "It has been days since you have done anything musical."

"Not now, Christine," he almost growled, her tempting pleas quickly becoming more than he could take.

"Have I done something wrong, Erik? Please tell me how I have offended you," she pressed, bowing her head and looking quite forlorn.

"What?" Erik gasped, shocked at her idea. "You have done nothing…nothing at all!"

"Then why will you no longer play…or sing?" Christine wanted to know. "I enjoy it very much when you do and it pains me greatly to be without it now."

"I…I am causing you pain by not playing?" Erik was aghast at the idea. He had meant this as a punishment to him…not her! But now to hear that he was making her suffer right along with him would not do! No, it would not do at all! "Forgive me, Christine. I did not mean to deprive you of something you enjoyed. I have just been…distracted by other projects as of late." Well, that was yet another lie, for in truth he had done so very little of consequence over the last few days, feeling lost and unsettled without his music. "But no more…if you wish me to, I will return to it immediately and play anything you wish to hear."

"Honest?" Christine's lips turned up into a most endearing smile, causing Erik's heart to grow even lighter. "I mean…only if you want to, but I would dearly love it if you did."

"Your wish is my command," Erik assured her, hurrying over to the piano and positioning himself on the bench as if it were an altar in which to pray. His fingers hovered over the keys, anxious for her to give the word.

"Then play anything!" Christine begged in delight. "Something you wrote yourself, perhaps, but truly I would be happy with anything."

"Very well, something from my personal repertoire it shall be," he agreed with a nod, closing his eyes as his mind raced through his numerous compositions until he came upon the perfect one. As his fingers touched the keys and music began to flow out of him once more, Erik felt a sense of peace that had been missing return. Four days had never felt so long and as his body almost sagged with bliss, he was truly amazed he had lasted that long!

The song he had chosen was a lively one, something he had written long ago when he was young, though through the years he had made several changes, morphing it into the tune it now was. He was so wrapped up in his playing that he failed to notice the perplexed look that had overtaken Christine's face. When he at last finished with a flourish and turned to her, expecting her usual round of applause, he instead saw tears shimmering in her eyes.

"Was…was it not to your liking?" he asked, almost hurt by her odd reaction to his work.

"No, it was…beautiful! Everything you play is extraordinary," she quickly insisted, reaching up and wiping at her eyes. "It just…well it reminded me so much of a song my father used to play for me when I was little. There were many differences of course; however the underlying tune sounded so much like the one by my father that it brought back some very touching memories. But I loved every note of it, truly I did."

"I see," Erik nodded, though in truth he did not. This song was one of his personal favorites, one he had written on the little pianoforte in the cellar when he was just a boy. He had never shared it with anyone, and he certainly had not played it for the gypsies. No, this song he had kept to himself, a private and much loved memory from his days spent with Anna. If Christine's father was talented enough to have come up with a similar tune, then perhaps this man was worthy of meeting one day.

How curious.

"Will you play some more?" Christine asked, breaking him from his thoughts. "Please do not stop now, I feel as if my ears have been left starving and you are at last providing them with the bounty they desire."

"Far be it from me to deny the requests of a beautiful woman," Erik laughed, more than happy to play all night if that be her wish. And with a huge smile, he did indeed grace her with both music and song for the next few hours.

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**Awwww, see, Erik could not keep up his punishment if it was hurting Christine in the process. So sweet.**

**And look, Erik to the rescue again! (with help from Amir). Now she can take care of her monthly problem...perhaps for a full year with as many of those things stuffed in that drawer. ha ha.**

**So...now we know where Christine is in this 'relationship' and so far everything Erik has suggested does not sound too bad to her! **

**Now...how about we introduce some female SINGING to this story? Shall we? **

**See you on Friday!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Ok, my lovelies...you wanted to hear some female singing...well here you go! (wink, wink)**

**PS. I am posting early just because I like you all so very much!**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**Guest: **I am glad you did not drop your phone! Yes, that was a big unexpected what Erik said...and what Christine replied. ha ha. I think it shocked them both. No...it is ERIK who will overreact to her singing, ha ha.

**syrianlight:** Christine will figure out her feelings eventually. Look at them, saving each other all the time, they are pretty good for one another. What? You think I am sneaky and toss in twists and turns? Well...yah, I admit I do that from time to time, ha ha. (wicked grin) And thanks, I will take you up on that and spend the rest of the evening cuddling with Erik in the big chair.

**Lovedit:** You know, with as distracted as Erik would have been from not playing for a few days she might have been able to strip him naked without him noticing. ha ha. Yep! Since Anna took all of Erik's music with her when she left Suzette's the second time, no wonder Christine would recognize some of his work. Charles would have been a fool not to have tried to play some of his wonderful compositions. Wow, you put a lot of thought into this...but no, I did not base any of this off Frankenstein...but I see your point. Glad you are enjoying it and thanks for saying so!

**Mystery:** I understand and support your protest, ha ha. But I can't make these things happen any sooner than they do in the story. Sorry. And you really need to read my chapters the next day and not stay up so late. The great and mighty Erik might not need sleep...but we HUMANS do! And one twisty surprising chapter coming right up...or down, however you want to look at it. ha ha.

**PhantomChristine:** Oh yes, ablutions is the perfect word to use to describe anything from brushing your teeth to going tinkle. ha ha. I think we ALL knew Erik's punishment would not last long, ha ha. I am glad you find my story amusing, that makes me smile. And yah...Erik with blond hair and blue eyes? NEVER. ha ha. Oh I bet people were wondering what kind of creepy show I was watching that would have that lye thing...shocked you all that it was Little House on the Prairie huh?! OK I will wait to hear from you about when I should post a bonus chapter! Just say the word.

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**Chapter 24**

**Angel of Music**

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With the passing of each day, things became easier and soon they were back to what Erik considered normal. Though to him, this happiness was anything but ordinary…it was astonishing! In fact it was the closest to pure joy he had ever come, and he relished every moment of it. They talked, ate, he read to her as well as played music and sang while she knitted and listened. Erik could not think of a happier life and he found himself smiling more often than he ever recalled doing in the past twenty years. Christine had changed his life, so very quickly, and all for the better. He even found he did not begrudge the fact that he was cloistered below the earth like a burrowing animal, just as long as she remained down there with him. While in the back of his mind he knew it could not last forever, no matter how much he wished it to. But until that devastating day came, and she requested to return to the surface, he intended to enjoy every blessed moment.

By the fifth day he recalled how Amir had warned him that the managers were becoming daring, suddenly believing themselves in charge of _his_ opera. Well he would see an end was put to that!

"Christine," Erik began, approaching her as she sat in the parlor knitting what she claimed to be a tea-cozy. "I must go out today."

"Out?" she questioned, stopping her work and looking up at him in panic.

"Yes, I must go above to attend to…business," he explained, trying to be as vague as possible.

"Business? What business?" she persisted, her concern giving way to curiosity. "What is it exactly that you do for a living, Erik?" Her face grew a bit red at the idea that she had never bothered to ask. He obviously got his money from someplace; it certainly did not grow on trees.

"I…I am a composer," he told her, and in truth it was not a lie. "I write music to be performed by others and I need to check on one of my…_clients._"

"How can you go out? Isn't it daylight right now?" Christine seemed very confused, either because of his unexpected trip above in the daylight or perhaps thinking she had misread the clock chimes and it was now later than she thought.

"It is, yet I shall be appropriately concealed," he assured her, thinking that was an understatement. "I will keep to the shadows and not be out for long."

"That…that is fine," she stammered, lowering her eyes as she fiddled with the knitting needles in her hands. "I…I can stay here though…right?"

Erik released a sigh of relief, for he had been terrified that she might wish to accompany him again. Though he was unsure if he feared her tagging along due to where he was going or because he still wished to keep her all to himself. Either way, he was happy she wished to remain behind.

"Of course you can stay here," he assured her. "Like I said, I will only be gone a short while and I am confident that you are familiar enough with the layout of the house so as not to do yourself harm or be in need of something you cannot easily find." He then dropped to one knee, bringing his face more to her level. He hated seeing that look of fear in her eyes and wished for nothing more than her to be happy. "I only request, that in my absence, you not prick your finger on your needles there and fall into a deep sleep," he joked, coaxing a smile to her lips as she gave a small laugh.

"It was a spinning wheel the princess was not supposed to touch, not knitting needles," she reminded him, having finally related the story of the sleeping beauty to him a few days ago.

"Regardless, I do not wish to come home and find you under some magical spell," he chuckled. Although, now that he thought about it, if she were to be enchanted, he would be obligated to wake her with a kiss. It would be his solemn duty!

"I will be very careful and not follow the compelling commands of any wicked fairies," she assured him.

"Good. Though I doubt that even a fairy, wicked or otherwise, could ever find their way down here through the tunnels," Erik huffed, not liking the idea of someone sneaking in with the intent of doing Christine harm.

"Your companion, Amir, seems to know the way rather well," she reminded him, a sly smile creeping across her lips as she heard Erik give a snort of disgust.

"The Daroga is no fairy, he is more like a meddlesome troll," he informed her, making her laugh even harder.

"Well whatever he is, I believe he admires you," Christine told him.

"Amir…_admires_ _me_?" Erik once again made a derogatory sound at her assumption. "I hardly think so. If it were not for the history we share, that worthless Persian would just as soon turn his back on me and never set eyes on my sorry hide again…and the feeling is mutual."

"If you say so," Christine giggled, her tone betraying the fact that she still believed the opposite.

"I do," Erik huffed, rising to his feet. "And on that bitter note, I will prepare to depart and allow you some time to rethink your erroneous ideas." He then turned and headed for his room, mumbling as he went. _"That pesky Persian admiring me…hardly!"_

Christine placed her hand over her mouth as he left, doing her best not to laugh out loud. As far as she was concerned their mutual regard was plain as day…even to a blind woman.

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Once in his room Erik chose his best cloak and wide brimmed hat, his usual Opera Ghost stalking attire. He was not sure if he would make an appearance or simply cause a few accidents, accompanied by a disembodied laugh, but he needed to be ready for whatever was necessary to continue their belief in his presence. He knew he had been a bit lax as of late, but when given the choice of spending his days with Christine, versus haunting the opera house, it had been no contest. Still, it was his _job_ and he needed to take it seriously. After all, he now had another mouth to feed and certainly did not wish to run low on the funds needed to accomplish this important task. So off he would go, to terrify a few ballet dancers and proclaim his authority once more.

With a final farewell to the still smug looking Christine – _darn her_ – he left and headed towards the tunnels that would lead to the house of music above. As he neared the secret passageway to the auditorium he was assaulted with the most horrific of sounds.

_Good heavens, what was that? _Erik asked himself as he quelled the urge to cover his now offended ears. Slipping through the sliding panel in the back of his private box, he made his way cautiously to the front, remaining hidden behind the velvety curtains. There on the stage was a woman - or at least he believed it to be a woman - though a graceless, bellowing cow was closer to the truth. Perhaps Amir had been right, Erik _had_ been away far too long.

He sat down and waited for her to stop screeching, eager to see what the managers and Monsieur Reyer would have to say. For their sakes, they better dismiss her quickly or there would be hell to pay.

When at last she was finished, he listened as the three men hemmed and hawed, doing their best to remain polite while they informed the woman that they would be in touch. Erik decided that the only reason to ever contact _her _again would be to inform her that she would _not_ be chosen for the festival. When he saw them roll their eyes after she left, he nodded his approval. Their obvious rejection of her had just saved their lives.

Yet as Erik sat there for the next hour, his mood grew more and more sour. He could not believe the number of talentless harpies that crossed the stage, eager to sing, yet hopelessly inept. One after another, they paraded before the managers, each and every one unable to carry a tune in a bucket. By the time the sixth girl began to bleat out like some wounded lamb, Erik had had enough!

"Thank you, miss," Monsieur Reyer said, rubbing his temple as he tried to dismiss the woman without sounding too eager to see her leave.

"I could sing another song for you, if you wish," she offered, completely oblivious to the looks of disgust being thrown her way, not only by the managers and the music director, but the stage hands and miscellaneous chorus girls as well; all of them having turned out to laugh and giggle over this musical disaster.

Reyer was about to decline her offer when a thundering voice was heard throughout the auditorium.

_"Sing one more note, Madame, and I swear it will be your swan song!"_ Erik roared, causing everyone to jump as they spun around in search of the source of the ominous voice.

"It's the Phantom!" the little blonde ballerina cried out, being the one most easily frightened. Erik could always count on her to announce his presence, causing the rest of the dancers to huddle closer together in fear.

"Save us!" others shouted, running off stage.

_"If you are unable to find true talent, even though you have searched this country over, and several more besides,"_ Erik warned, watching as Monsieur Debienne and Monsieur Poligny cowered in their red velvet seats, _"then perhaps I should hand-pick the new diva myself. Making you and your pathetic role as managers quite obsolete. And I don't think you would like to see how I dispose of unnecessary items in my opera house…would you?"_ Erik had only a vague idea of what he was insinuating by that obscure threat, but it had the desired effect and they did not ask him to elaborate, so he let it lie. He did however trip a wire that brought the heavy cloth backdrop crashing down upon the stage, causing everyone standing nearby to scream in terror…one girl even fainted. Erik found he had missed this kind of fun. _"Have I made myself perfectly clear, gentlemen?"_ he asked, his anger still quite apparent in the ghostly voice that echoed around the room.

"Y-y-yes," Poligny squeaked out, covering his head with the call list he held in his hand. As if mere paper could protect him from the great and fear inspiring Opera Ghost.

_"Excellent,"_ Erik replied in a low voice, yet one that still carried across the stage. _"You have only six weeks left…do not disappoint me." _Then he was gone, leaving behind a duly chastised staff.

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Meanwhile, Christine had become bored with her knitting, choosing instead to practice her steps around the room, counting off each pace as she made her way to the door, down the hall and into the kitchen. With a smile of triumph she felt her way to the icebox and searched for a snack. Finding a bit of meat and some bread, she made herself a small sandwich, knowing that when Erik returned he would more than likely offer to make her something more filling. She smiled as she thought of how attentive he was, always asking her if she needed anything and seeming very pleased whenever she did indeed make a request of him. She scolded herself for enjoying it far too much and made a vow not to take advantage of his good nature. Still, it was very nice to have someone offer.

Once her hunger was temporarily abated, she counted her steps to the music room, nodding in satisfaction as she came in contact with the piano - right where she thought it would be. Yet as her hand reached out, Christine touched the keys, making a few of the notes resound through the room. She stood there and listened to them fade away into nothingness and something stirred in her heart. Oh, she loved it when Erik played…for it brought back so many happy memories of her childhood and how her parents would entertain not only her, but themselves as well, with such wonderful music.

Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to play, and against her better judgment Christine sat down and positioned her fingers over the keys. It took her several tries to find the right notes, but once she did, it was like she had never been away from it. One song morphed into another and then another until she was left with sore fingers, stiff from lack of use.

It was then that she could no longer resist the desire to sing, for even though she had told herself _that_ part of her life was over…the _need_ remained within her, fighting to get out. Singing had been her true joy all her life and not a day had gone by without Christine raising her voice in song or humming a tune as she worked to clean the home she shared with her family. Her mother had been an excellent teacher and her father had encouraged her at every turn, offering to play for her or simply listening as she practiced. The horrible barge accident might have stolen away her sight, and any hopes of ever becoming an opera star, but it could not diminish her love of music.

So giving one last heavy sigh of regret, she pushed aside her despair and began to warm up her voice. It had been a full month now since she had allowed herself to sing and her vocal cords were tight and weak from lack of use. Just like her arms or legs, it took muscles to work her voice and they needed to be exercised before she could hope to sing well. It would take some time to loosen them up, to open the resonance space and get the breath underneath the sound, but she was determined to try.

When at last she felt ready, she set her fingers to the keys once more and began to pluck out a tune as she softly sang the first verse. The second one was stronger and by the third she was feeling rather proud of herself. She had forgotten just how wonderful it felt to raise her voice in song and some of the heaviness she had been carrying around fell away. This was true medicine to her…this is what she had been missing! It was just too bad she could no longer call upon it as a hopeful career, for she enjoyed this so much more than knitting potholders.

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_"FOOLS!"_ Erik shouted as he stormed down the tunnels. "The whole lot of them are damned fools!" He had not dared stay a moment more after hearing that last woman _attempt _to sing! He had dreamed up this festival in order to draw out true talent, not any riff-raff or sorry heifer that had been told by an ignorant or sex-starved lover that she could actually belt out a tune! They had been holding auditions for over a month now and still he had yet to hear anyone worthy of taking on the role of prima donna! Granted, he had not been at _every_ audition, but if what he just heard was an example of the best and the brightest the continent had to offer, they were in serious trouble.

Was he being too particular? Expecting too much? Well, he was certainly not about to lower his standards and suffer through yet another season with a leading lady who sang like a disease ridden billy-goat! A decent singer must be found!

Erik was so lost in his grumblings that it wasn't until he reached his front door that he heard it. _Music!_ And not just music…a voice was singing as well! He froze in place and looked around, searching for the source of such a wonderful sound. Could someone above be auditioning and their voice had made its way down through his tunnels to grace his ears with such perfection? No…the sound was not coming from the opera house…it was coming from _his_ house! With his mouth still hanging open in shock, Erik silently made his way inside, following the golden voice like a moth drawn to a flame. The door to the music room was open and upon entering, he at last confirmed what he knew to be true…but could still hardly believe.

Christine was…_singing!_

She was sitting there at his piano, her fingers skillfully coaxing a sweet melody from the often stubborn instrument as she graced his talent-starved ears with a voice so close to perfection it literally brought tears to his eyes. His Christine was sublime…she was his _angel of music!_

Erik was flabbergasted and mentally kicked himself for not pursuing his idea of testing her musical ability before. Granted, he had shied away from the idea due to her lack of enthusiasm whenever he had mentioned it, but to think he could have been listening to her wonderful voice all along and yet had failed to ask…oh, what a travesty!

Erik dared not move, afraid to even breathe for fear she would stop and take away this joy. But when she at last finished her song and rested her hands in her lap with a pleased smile on her face, he could not stop himself from breaking out in applause.

"Bravo!" he called, his hands stinging from the enthusiasm of his ovation. "Bravo! That was…was beyond words to describe, Christine….truly!"

Christine jumped up in fright at the sound of his voice, not having any idea that he had been there listening. Drawbacks of being both blind and preoccupied, it would seem. She stood beside the bench, one hand on her racing heart and the other one on the top of the piano to steady her after the shock.

"Erik…I…I did not hear you come in," she confessed, her face now very hot from embarrassment.

"Of which I am glad, for had you realized you had an audience, would you have continued?" He did not wait for an answer and pressed forward, knowing what her reply would have been. "Of course you wouldn't, thus depriving me of this magnificent demonstration." Erik then took a few tentative steps closer; suddenly even more in awe of her than before – if that was at all possible. "Why did you not tell me that you could sing?"

"I...it simply does not matter anymore," she said with a heavy sigh, her eyes dropping as she stared blankly at the floor.

"Of course it matters!" Erik almost shouted, doing his best to keep his temper in check. Here he had been searching for the perfect voice to grace the stage and she had been under his nose – so to speak – all this time! He was almost giddy with excitement and sick with frustration at the same time. Oh, the weeks they had wasted! "Christine, you cannot ignore this gift…you must sing!"

"But to what end?" she asked, her head coming up and giving him a clear view of the tears in her eyes. "What use is a voice if one cannot do anything with it?"

"What do you mean?" Erik was very confused now.

"I have always dreamed of singing on stage…of joining a production company of some sort," she began plaintively.

"As you should…you have the talent to do this and more! Much more!" Erik assured her.

"Yet who would hire me now…_a blind girl?"_ she cried, the pain in her voice cutting through him like a knife. "How can I perform on stage if I cannot see where I am going? I would be certain to run into my fellow actors or trip one of the dancers! I could have the best voice in all of France but would be useless to everyone…including myself."

"You _do_ have the best voice in France…perhaps all of Europe!" Erik knew he might be exaggerating…but only by a little.

"Erik, please, do not tease me so," she sobbed, sitting down on the bench and burying her face in her hands.

Erik could see he was not going about this the correct way. He needed her to realize her potential, to understand that not all had been lost along with her eyesight. He had to convince Christine to sing…he simply _had_ to! So walking over, he sat down on the bench next to her, wishing he felt brave enough to put his arm around her in order to offer some comfort. He was desperate for more of the contact they had shared the other day, but not yet brave enough to initiate such delights.

"Christine, please do not cry," he begged, truly hating to see her weep, each tear like a dagger to his heart. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his handkerchief, rubbing it against one of her hands that she still held close to her face. "I do not mean to pressure you…but you have a gift, one so few possess, and it would be a sin to waste it. You say you have thought of performing on stage? Have you considered auditioning for the Opera Garnier here in Paris? They are currently holding auditions for a festival in order to secure a new leading lady."

"I know," she replied quietly as she wiped her eyes with his kindly offered handkerchief. "I…I came to Paris for that sole purpose."

"You did?" Erik was stunned, though now that he thought about it, he shouldn't be. The scouts_ had_ been sent to many areas of Europe…Sweden being one of them. So…apparently one of those worthless men the managers hired had an ear for talent after all. It was rather surreal to think that his own brain-child had been the reason Christine had come to France…_to him!_ This was fate…it had to be! Why else would he have been thrown together with this heavenly creature? She was meant to grace the stage…she was meant to sing for him! Now if he could only convince _her_ of this fact. "Christine, you must listen to me," he began, doing all he could to keep his voice even and calm, trying not to frighten her with his overwhelming excitement. "You came so far and I am sure you worked very hard for this chance. You cannot throw it away now."

"I didn't throw it away," she all but spat. "It was stolen from me!" Her tears had ceased, but now she was shaking a bit from anger and hurt. "I came to France to start a new life, to follow my dream to sing on stage, but how can I do that now, Erik…_how?"_

She had a point, not a very solid one as far as he was concerned, but a point nonetheless. He could see there being difficulties with convincing the managers to hire on a blind leading lady…_yet her voice_…her voice was perfect! He could already imagine her singing his songs, his melodies falling from her lips like liquid gold. There had to be a way around this, some trick or choreography that would allow her to perform without her lack of sight being a hindrance. Still, she refused to have faith in herself, so he attempted another tactic.

"You know…I said from the beginning that your blindness may not be permanent," he reminded. "What if you pass up this chance to audition and then regain your sight only to have missed your opportunity? Is it not worth a try?"

"Do…do you really think it might come back?" she asked, turning towards him hopefully.

"Anything is possible, Christine," he assured her, and he believed it too! For was he not at this very moment sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the world...and having a conversation no less? He never believed _that_ could happen either, yet here he was. "With my help and a little bit of planning, I am sure we can fool the men who are in charge of this festival into believing you are fully capable of taking on the role as diva, giving you at least another six weeks for your eyes to recover and your sight to return."

"And if it doesn't?" she pressed. "If the festival arrives and I am still not able to see…then what?"

"Then you will be faced with some new choices and go from there," he told her gently. "But at least you will be in a better position to _make_ those choices. If you give up now, where will you be?"

"I don't know…" Christine said with a heavy sigh, leaning to the side as she let her head rest against Erik's shoulder in search of comfort. "It might already be too late…what if I missed my scheduled audition? If they sent a summons to my old apartment, there would have been no one there to receive it."

When Christine had leaned against him, Erik's breath caught in his throat, causing him to instantly stiffen up. Oh, how warm she was, how deliciously soft. And if he turned his head just a bit, he was able to inhale her delicate scent… it was pure heaven. Encouraged by her act of initiating contact, Erik swallowed the lump in his throat and allowed his trembling hand to slowly reach out, encircling her around the shoulders. The surge of euphoria that raced through him as she snuggled in closer just about catapulted him off the bench. But he held it together and tried to appear as calm as possible…at least on the outside.

"You let me worry about that," he instructed, momentarily shutting his eyes as he desperately tried to memorize every wonderful sensation he was currently feeling. "I will discover when your audition is scheduled, and all you need to concern yourself with is preparing your voice."

"It has been so long since I have sung," Christine continued to argue. "Almost a month has gone by…I don't know if I could be ready in time."

"I will help you with that as well," Erik insisted, not willing to let her give up. "We will retrain your voice, exercise those muscles and rebuild your stamina until it will be as if you never stopped. When the time comes, you will dazzle them, Christine. I guarantee it!"

"Why are you doing this, Erik?" she asked suddenly, lifting her head as she stared up at him. "Why are you being so kind to me?"

"Because you deserve nothing less," he informed her, his voice hardly above a whisper now as he stared down into her beautiful blue eyes. Oh, what he wouldn't have given right then to have earned the right to lean down and kiss her…but common sense held him back. "I believe you are destined for greatness, Christine, and even if your sight never returns, it would be a sin for you to ignore the gift you possess. There are so many other venues and opportunities for you to showcase your talent, if you do not wish to be the opera star I know you can be. But, Christine…you need to sing. You _must _sing!"

"I…I would still like to audition for the Opera Garnier," she told him in a pleading tone. "It has been my dream ever since I heard that it was being built. I have wanted nothing more than to perform on the Paris stage…to follow in the footsteps of my mother. But do…do you truly think I have a chance…even with being blind?"

"The managers would be utter fools if they did not recognize your aptitude for music," Erik stated. "And with my help, all of Paris will soon fall at your feet praising you!"

"What did I ever do to deserve a friend such as you, Erik?" Christine cried, now throwing her arms around him as she embraced him tightly.

Erik was once more transported straight to heaven as he wound his own arms around her delicate form, allowing his eager hand to gently stroke her back. He longed to lean down and rest his cheek against her soft curls, but dared not for fear she might feel his mask. This was enough for now…this was _more_ than enough.

"And I…I certainly have no idea what I might have done to be blessed by your presence, Christine," he admitted quietly. For looking back over his life, he was hard pressed to think of one decent thing that would merit him sitting here, holding this little angel in his arms. No…not one blessed thing.

They remained in this position for a while longer until even Erik began to feel it was past the point of propriety. Granted, they were already throwing caution and convention into the wind by her staying in his underground home unchaperoned. Thus he dare not take any liberties that might cause her to begin to rethink that decision. So with a heavy sigh, Erik released her and urged her back into a sitting position.

"Would you like to begin your training now?" he asked eagerly, wishing for nothing more than to hear her glorious voice once more. "As you said, we have so little time left before the festival."

"Could…could we begin after dinner?" she asked hopefully. That little sandwich she had made was no longer staving off her appetite and she knew that singing required a lot of energy.

"Of course!" Erik cried, ashamed of his lack of care for her. How cruel of him to expect her to sing without first offering her nourishment! "Forgive me, Christine. I was being selfish and not thinking of your needs."

"Oh, Erik, I don't think selfish is a word I would ever associate with you!" Christine laughed, wiping the last tear from off her cheek with his handkerchief. "If anything, you are my guardian angel and there is nothing you could ever say that would convince me otherwise."

Erik felt a cold sweat overtake him, imagining just how easy it would be to shatter that image she had created in her mind. If she only knew….if she could but see what he truly was.

"How…how about we go make dinner?" he suggested, desperate to change the subject. "Then we can begin your voice lessons."

"I would love that," she smiled, standing up as she offered him her hand.

Erik took it and rose to stand beside her. _Oh, how the fates lived to torture him_, he thought to himself. Not only was Christine beautiful, kind and beyond desirable…but she could sing as well! For what other reason could a perfect creature such as she been created - if not to fulfill his every fantasy? And yet…even with such a girl rendered blind, Erik knew he could still only dream of possessing one as fine as she.

Oh, but a man could dream…_couldn't he?_

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**Oh let the man dream! And then...let it become REALITY! Yes?**

**So did you enjoy the cute conversation Erik and Christine had before he left? The Sleeping Beauty reference...how she said Amir admired Erik?**

**Wasn't it nice to see the return of the Opera Ghost? Even if the rest of the opera house did not think so, ha ha.**

**Yes Erik, you better keep an eye on things up there...did you HEAR that caterwauling? And I bet you all thought I was teasing you with that 'female' singing when he had to shut that cow up, ha ha.**

**Sooooo, did you like how I got Christine to sing and Erik to hear her?**

**Was he duly impressed enough for you?**

**I think he loves her even more now!**


	25. Chapter 25

**And just because I didn't have a contest this time or SAY there wold be a bonus chapter, does not mean I wasn't planning on posting something today, ha ha. BUT...you just never know when I might surprise you! **

**So keep up the good work and send in those reviews. We need to keep Erik happy now...right?**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**TheRebbs98: **Of course he does...he MUST look is best if he is to be seen at any time while stalking you know. ha ha Christine seems to think they admire each other. Oh I think she will see again...at some point. He will find out who her mother is...at some point. (is that irritatingly vague enough for ya, ha ha) Glad you enjoyed it.

**syrianlight:** They are pretty cute together, huh? Erik just HAD to make her want to sing, he would have died otherwise. I had you fooled at first, hu? Nope I was not going to make you suffer though another chapter without hearing Chrsitine sing. We do enjoy it when he plays Opera Ghost, he is so wickedly good at it. Hmmm, Imp might not be a flattering word for him, so best she stick to Erik. ha ha.

**PhantomChristine:** OH yes, if he didn't love her before (which we all know he did) he certainly does now. Now she can never get away from him! But they DO admire each other...not that they would ever admit it. Oh the mask part is heading your way...soon-ish.

**Lovedit:** Yes, she will have to know about his secret...and soon. Hmmm, what WOULD Raoul think of a blind girl? Would that be beneath him? I wonder. How would anyone - except Amir - know he has a lair-guest? No one goes down there to check. ha ha. I am not really dealing with Don Juan in this one. No, Anna has explained to Charles what a genius Erik is and he can see that for himself as he played his music. He is impressed with little Erik's abilities.

**Mystery:** I run out of words too when I write...so I just keep using the same ones over and over. Like "A" "The" "And" "Erik" and so forth. ha ha. No one seems to care and I know I would not mind if you did either. ha ha. Yes, we know you are still waiting for that letter to be read...it will come.

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**ChristineDaae:** I am receiving your reviews, but since you are NOT signing in on an account I can not respond to them in any other way but this. If you can find your account log in code and do so I will be HAPPY to answer your questions. I looked up your screen name and there are four people with the name ChristineDaae...so I have no idea if you are one of them. To answer your question, yes, I am the author and it is my story you are reading here and the same you see for sale on Amazon and Kindle. I had to change Nadir's name to Amir since the name Nadir Khan is copyrighted by Susan Kay who came up with the name and published her story first. Hope you find your log in code.

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**Chapter 25**

**Three Questions**

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Erik was up before dawn, having hardly slept a wink after everything that had happened the day before. The previous evening, after dinner, they had indeed begun the retraining of her voice and while he could tell she was woefully out of practice, the potential was there, struggling to be set free. He had done his best to hide his exuberance and even though he was loath to do so, after several hours of exhausting lessons, Erik finally forced himself to allow her to rest and go to bed. He chided himself for not seeing how tired she was, how out of practice she claimed to be after a month of not singing, but he had just been so excited! Especially when he saw the amount of raw talent she possessed, waiting there for him to perfect.

After his trip above the day before, he had feared a new diva would never be found! At least not one that met with his high standards - and yet here he had discovered her in the most unlikely of places…_his own home!_ To her credit, Christine had not complained about his over-zealous instructions, never asking for a break or begging to stop. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying it almost as much as he. Erik did however make sure she drank a very soothing cup of chamomile tea before slipping into bed – his way of apologizing for his thoughtlessness.

Once he had been satisfied that no nightmares would plague her sleep that night, Erik had vacated his usual chair and slipped out of her room, making his way to his own bed. Yet sleep did not come easy. He spent most of the night just staring at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on the mattress as scores and scores of music ran through his mind, anxious to try each and every one out on her. Her voice was perfect…or at least it would be once he was finished with her. That thought gave him a laugh…finished with her? Erik could not even imagine a time when he would be anywhere near finished with his beautiful Christine. Every day he discovered new and exciting things, every moment with her surprised him more and more. And now…now he could practically envision her taking the stage and enthralling audiences with her voice…accompanied by his music!

Before doing anything else that morning, Erik took a few moments to check on Christine, making certain she was still asleep. Then, grabbing his hat and cloak from the day before he raced up to the opera house. A hasty glance inside the managers' office assured him that they had yet to arrive for the day and he was able to search for what he was looking for in peace. It did not take long to locate the audition sheet and he quickly scanned down the list of applicants, looking for Christine's name. When he found it, he was forced to frown. She _had_ indeed already been called up…over two weeks ago! And when she had failed to show, her name had been crossed off the list as an absentee.

This would not do at all!

Locating a blank sheet of paper, Erik skillfully copied that particular page over again in the exact duplicate of Poligny's hand. However, this time he left Christine's name off the list. Then, grabbing the final sheet, he quickly added her in once more, giving her the second chance she so rightly deserved. With a little more meddling, another invitation for her to audition was placed among the pile to be posted that day, making sure it was addressed to Victor's home and not her old vacated apartment. Yes, everything was set. All they had to do now was practice and wait for the day of her audition. The Festival was still six weeks away, but she would be appearing before the managers and Monsieur Reyer in just nine days. Yet it was more than enough time for him to aid her in polishing up her voice.

Christine would be his greatest triumph!

Once he replaced all the documents and supplies, Erik silently slipped out of the office through the secret panel in the wall, heading back down to awaken Christine. He was anxious to begin their lessons, but he forced himself to remember her needs this time – consisting of breakfast first, many breaks and a nap directly after lunch.

He was halfway back to his home when he realized that it had been a week since Amir had graced them with his presence and he could always count on that bothersome man to show up right on time and ruin all his fun. He was just contemplating setting more traps when it occurred to him that perhaps he could use his old acquaintance once more in his little scheme. Christine needed to learn of her audition appointment somehow, and Erik certainly could not let her know he had been the one behind it. The last thing he wanted her to suspect was that he had any affiliation with the opera house or influence with the managers. If she was to shine on her own, he needed her to imagine this all came about by chance, not by his skillful design. Amir would be the perfect one to herald the news of her upcoming appointment. And for once he found he was anxious for that meddlesome Persian to arrive.

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Breakfast might have been a bit rushed, but tea and toast were the last things on Erik's mind as he ushered her towards the music room, eager to begin their lessons for the day. They had mostly worked on scales and a few simple standard pieces designed to test her voice the previous night, ending with the treat of a familiar folksong they both knew by heart. But today, after warming up, Erik insisted that she jump right in with both feet. However, they ran into a major snag when he realized that any libretto he handed her was of no use to her sightless eyes. Christine could not read the words or follow the notes as he played, leaving him perplexed as to how he could teach her the song he wished to hear.

"I am sorry," Christine lamented, practically feeling Erik's frustration over the situation. "I…I do not mean to be a bother."

"No, no," Erik insisted, waving his hand dismissively, even though she could not see it. "It is no bother; we will simply have to proceed in another fashion is all. You know what they say… 'where there is a will, there is a way'. And I can assure you, Christine…I have the will, thus I shall find a way!"

The solution did indeed present itself and soon Erik was implementing it to perfection. To teach her to sing a piece of his own work - which thrilled him to no end - he would first have to play and sing it to her in small pieces, allowing her to thoroughly memorize the words and melody. Thankfully Christine was a quick study and within no time she was parroting it back to him in perfect tune and pitch. She truly was a marvel!

It was a bit slower going this way, but immensely rewarding for both teacher and student. Christine adored hearing Erik play and his voice brought her such joy that in no time at all, hours had flown by, leaving her winded and in need of a short break. Erik was reluctant to stop, but he recalled his pledge to not push too hard, and gave in with a defeated sigh. So, while he busied himself with scribbling on the staff paper, making changes and altering notes, Christine leaned against the top of the piano.

"Erik…may I ask a question?" she inquired, pulling her arm up to casually rest her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Ahhh, we are back to this game, I see?" he chuckled, mischief gleaming in his eyes. "Please, my dear, proceed with your query, but know that I am wise to your tricks and I will not be fooled so easily again."

"Does everything have to be a challenge with you?" she laughed, hearing the mirth in his voice. "I simply wished to ask…what do you look like?"

All the joy and excitement Erik had been feeling vanished in a split second as her words tumbled forth. Why did she have to ask _that,_ of all things? And what would he say…what could he say? A dozen descriptive words sprang to his mind, including beast, monster and gargoyle, all of which he was certain she did not wish to hear.

"Why…why do you ask?" he questioned, doing his best to keep the fear out of his voice. "Does it truly matter? Besides, it is an unfair question…since I already know the answers you would provide of yourself in return."

"No…I suppose it does not matter," she admitted, taking note that something in Erik's manner had suddenly changed. Was he offended by her asking? Did he now believe her shallow and petty to have asked? "I only wish to form an image in my mind. I have devised so many different versions of you over the past weeks, I am curious to learn which one was most accurate."

Erik wondered if a rotting corpse had crossed her mind, thinking that was the closest way to describe what lay hidden behind his protective mask. Although, in retrospect, he could tell her anything and she would have no recourse but to believe him. Christine was rather trusting… almost to her detriment. And this was what bothered him the most, for each time he was forced to lie to her, it ate away at what little conscience and dignity he had left. Besides, look where lying to her had gotten them both before. Christine had almost been carried off by those vile men and he had almost lost control and killed them over the offense. No…it was best that he end his lies now. Christine was an angel…she deserved better than his deception. She deserved better than…_him._

"If you would rather not answer, that is all right," Christine spoke up, breaking him from his thoughts. "I was just curious…forget I asked." She now seemed a bit uncomfortable - almost embarrassed - and Erik felt twice as bad about his reluctance to respond.

"No…you have every right to inquire," he replied with a dejected sigh. "It is natural that you wish to know of your surroundings and companion. There is no harm in your asking."

"To be fair, I will allow you an equal amount of questions in return, no restrictions. You can ask whatever you wish," Christine offered, the smile returning to her lips.

This made the blow a little less severe…but only slightly.

"Very well…ask your questions, Christine." Erik then bowed his head and waited for the ax to fall.

"What color is your hair?" she posed.

"It…it is black," he answered, looking up as if he had been given a small reprieve.

"And your eyes?" Christine continued.

"Amber," he was once again able to truthfully reply.

"Really…how interesting," Christine tapped her chin with her index finger, as if she were trying to picture it in her mind. "I wish I could see them."

"They are nothing special, I assure you," Erik insisted. "You are missing nothing."

"Do you have a mustache…or a beard?" she continued, yet this time, to his horror, Christine reached out her hand, as if she were intending on touching his face to find out for herself.

Erik stood up from the piano bench so quickly that it tipped over, crashing to the floor behind him in his haste.

"No!" he almost yelped as he took a few steps backwards and stood there, a bit shaken.

"Erik…what is wrong?" she asked, standing up straight and placing her hand over her heart, having been startled by his words and the sudden noise.

"Nothing…it…it was an accident," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair before allowing his hands to rest on the back of his neck as he tried to calm himself. "I stood up too quickly and the bench tipped over. Nothing to be concerned over, no harm done."

"I…see," she nodded, though her tone did not match her words.

"And no…I…I have no mustache or beard," he quickly answered, trying to derail her quick little mind. It took a moment before the perplexed look left her face and then she smiled pleasantly.

"Thank you…that gives me a much clearer picture," Christine told him with a hum of satisfaction.

"That is it?" he asked skeptically, having fully expected her to grill him on his looks…or lack thereof.

"Yes, that is all I wish to know," she nodded. "Now it is your turn…you have three questions allotted to you. Use them wisely, for I cannot be held responsible if you waste them." At this she gave a little laugh, partially from mirth and the rest from nervousness. After all, she was now honor bound to answer whatever he posed.

Erik could not believe his luck! Not only had he successfully avoided having to make any mention of his actual appearance, other than superficial things that he had no qualms about disclosing, he was now given three precious gifts into her mind. Oh, what to ask…the possibilities were endless. Yet before he could even pose the first one, he heard the unmistakable rumble of his student's stomach, proclaiming that it needed further nourishment.

"Are you hungry, Christine?" Erik asked, taking a good look at the clock and seeing that they had indeed practiced far past lunchtime.

"Yes I am," she answered, standing up straight and covering her midsection with her hand as her face grew red. But then she got a devilish twinkle in her eye and added, "And that is number one…you have two questions left."

"Unfair!" Erik protested. "That was not one of my questions and you know it."

"It was a valid inquiry and I answered it truthfully, it is not my fault you chose your words poorly," she laughed, feeling rather smug with herself. "Besides, crying foul when it was your own fault is quite unbecoming."

"You little minx," Erik growled, though even Christine could hear the humor in his tone, causing her to smile even wider.

"Care to try for question number two?" she challenged.

"No…I know when I have been bested and I now realize that I must give much more thought to how I pose the next two," Erik laughed. "I will not be fooled again."

"We shall see," she told him with a smirk. "We shall see."

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After making sure Christine was sufficiently fed, Erik suggested she take a short nap. Citing that he intended to not only have her practice more that evening but also that she would need time to mentally prepare for his final two questions, whenever he decided what they would be. While she slept, Erik pored over pages of music he had written, looking for the perfect one to have her perform later. When he felt he had at last discovered the very one, he sat back and examined it closely. It would need a change here, an adjustment there, but in the end he knew it was exactly suited for her voice.

It was then that he looked at the clock and frowned. How odd that the hour had grown so late and yet Amir had still not arrived. This was so unlike the punctual Persian and he found himself beginning to wonder if the man had at last stepped in the wrong place and fallen victim to one of his many traps. Most were harmless, meant only to detain or deter, yet a few of them could maim and potentially kill. Erik frowned, it would be just like that irritating man to go and get himself killed right when he finally had a use for him!

Curiosity getting the better of him he made his way to the door and headed out into the cavern that encompassed his underground lake. He stood very still and listened, trying to catch any sound of the man's bumbling approach, yet he heard nothing. Erik was toying with the idea of making his way to the surface to see if he might run into him on the way up, when a piercing cry came from behind him…from inside his house!

_Christine!_

Erik rushed back through the door, giving no thought to anything but her safety as he searched her out. He found her in the parlor hunched over with a shoe in one hand and the other holding onto the arm of his high backed chair for support. She had a pained expression on her face and was whimpering quietly.

"Christine, what is the matter?" he asked, taking her by the elbow and guiding her to sit in the chair.

"I…I miscounted my steps and stubbed my toe on the footstool!" she cried, reaching down to grab hold of her one foot, clad only in a sheer stocking. When she went to touch the offending digit she cried out in further agony. "I think it is broken!"

"What were you doing walking around with no shoes on in the first place?" he asked, his anxiety causing his tone to come out rougher than intended. He reached out and pulled the overturned footstool upright and sat down on it in front of her, doing his best to calm his rattled nerves.

"One of the laces had a knot in it and I couldn't see to get it untied!" she fumed back, still holding her left foot off the floor, refusing to let it touch anything that might cause it more pain. "I came looking for you to help me with it." She then threw the aforementioned footwear across the room in a fit of anger and frustration, causing it to strike the opposite wall, yet doing no real damage.

"Let me take a look at it," Erik offered, reaching out to inspect her damaged toe.

"No!" she yelped, pulling her leg away. "It hurts!"

"Of course it does and it will continue to do so until you allow me to assess the damage and fix it," he argued. She seemed to relent and with much trepidation, he took hold of her foot by the heel and pulled it towards him. He found that a lump had formed in his throat as he stared at her slender ankle and calf, the only parts peeking out from under her skirt. He knew he needed to remove the stocking, but he was having a difficult time deciding how. It was quite a titillating dilemma and he was not sure if he should attempt it himself or ask for her assistance. He reminded himself that he had removed practically every stitch of clothing she had been wearing when he first discovered her, so this should be of little concern. Yet, he had not had such strong feelings for her at that time, and now…well, now things were vastly different. In the end, he took the coward's way out and requested that she do the deed herself.

Once the sheer stocking was removed Erik could see that her third little toe was not only a bright red color, but looked to be at a slightly odd angle. It did not appear to be broken, however she must have jammed it quite severely. It would need to be set back in place.

"Your toe is not broken, but I will need to give it a little tug to put it back to rights," Erik explained, finally able to get his voice to sound gentle and reassuring once more. "Are you ready?"

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Amir had been making his way down the tunnels for some time now, having had to double back twice when he got turned around and took the wrong fork. He really needed to pay better attention as he went, a man could get lost and die down here before ever being found. Granted he knew if things became too severe, all he needed to do was trip one of Erik's many traps and he was sure his paranoid friend would be there in no time at all to see who he had caught. Amir, however, did not relish the idea of listening to Erik gloat all the way back to the surface about how he, the Daroga of Mazanderan, had needed to be rescued after losing his way. No indeed!

Thus by the time he arrived at the large cavern that contained Erik's well hidden front door, he was exhausted, grumpy and a bit on edge. He was all set to spend the needed time searching for that confounded secret entrance when to his surprise he found it was already standing wide open.

That was odd.

He stepped closer but was halted in his tracks by the sound of voices…and he listened closely to what they were saying.

"No, Erik! Don't touch me!" Christine cried out, her voice raised in fright.

"I must, Christine," Erik argued, no longer using the gentle tone Amir was used to hearing when he spoke to his houseguest. "The more you fight me the more painful it will be!"

"Please, don't…it hurts, Erik!" she whimpered once more, the fear in her voice causing Amir's blood to boil. What the hell was going on in there?

"I will be quick, I promise," Amir heard Erik assure her. "In a moment it will all be over and the pain will soon fade."

Amir could take it no more, he slammed his hand against the half open door and burst inside. He was never foolish enough to come down to Erik's lair armed with a pistol or sword, for then the masked man would surely have taken offence and tossed him out on his ear…or worse. But being a former police chief taught him to never go anywhere without a little insurance. So as he made his way down the hall towards the sound of Christine's tears, he liberated a long bladed knife from his boot, ready to defend the poor girl with his life if needs be.

_Damn you, Erik!  
_

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**Amir! Such foul language! For shame!**

**So, how did you like how Erik took care of her little "audition problem" with the managers?**

**Her three questions?**

**Are we all proud he answered truthfully?**

**But she tricked him out of one of his questions, the little sneak.**

**Oh dear, now what does Amir THINK is going on in there?**


	26. Chapter 26

**Some have asked about a timeline - so here is what has transpired thus far:**

Erik is 31, Christine is 20, Amir is in his late 40s, Anna and Charles are in their 50s

Erik finds her at 10 weeks until the festival.

At 12 days she sends the telegram to her parents.

At 20 days she TRIES to send the letter to her family - is accosted by the three creeps.

At 31 days she sings - leaving only 6 weeks until the festival.

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**Guest Reviews:**

**Mystery:** Thanks for not blaming Amir too much, he is rather confused by what he heard. Thank you very much for your compliment, but I must give my Beta and pre-readers a LOT of credit for catching my MANY mistakes before you all see them. I do try very hard to spell and use the correct grammar, but finger slips happen and my brain might go haywire at times. And if you read my story 'The Angel of Persia' you WILL find a lot of mistakes. Being my first I had not employed a beta yet and I intend to go back and correct all the boo boos in that one very soon. And "Amir jumping to conclusion speed" is REALLY fast!

**MlleNikki:** Thank you so very much for enjoying Mystery Behind the Mask. I got your reviews and thank you for them. I am glad the couch scene made you laugh outloud, I just loved playing Erik and Amir off one another, they were such good buddies...unlike in this story where they are more like Frenemies. ha ha. Thanks again and I look forward to hearing what you think of this story!

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**Chapter 26**

**Misconceptions**

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Yet when Amir rounded the corner and rushed into the parlor he skidded to an immediate stop, the blade frozen in his hand as he stared at the scene that greeted him. He had expected to find an entirely different scenario playing out before him, one involving a couch, a struggling girl and - heaven forbid - a semi dressed Erik. However, what he saw was completely different. There was the sobbing Christine, sitting in a chair, fully clothed with only her one naked foot exposed in Erik's grasp. Both of them turned and looked in his direction, his entrance having been none too quiet.

While Christine was left wondering what had caused the ruckus, Erik's eyes took in the sight of the stunned man with the blade in his hand and his own eyes began to narrow in suspicion. _Did that perverted Persian now assume that he was mistreating his little guest?_ Running the last few sentences they had spoken over in his mind, he could easily see how Amir might have misread the situation. Yet, understanding it, and forgiving him for it, were two different things!

"What…what is going on here?" the Daroga asked, still a bit unsure.

"Monsieur Amir?" Christine asked, a bit perplexed by his sudden appearance.

"Are you all right, my dear?" he questioned again, his eyes darting between the startled girl and Erik's menacing stare.

"I have injured my toe it seems, and Erik is attempting to….OUCH!" she cried out as Erik, taking full advantage of her distracted state, grabbed hold of her jammed toe and gave it a swift yank, setting it back in place.

"There we go, all better," he informed her in a rather smug voice.

"Erik! That was not nice!" she scolded, pulling her leg out from his grasp. Yet very soon, her anger melted away as she did indeed begin to feel the pain in her digit lessen considerably.

"Nice or not, it needed to be done if you were going to heal, Christine," Erik assured her, rising to his feet and reaching for her hand. "But the best thing for it now is to place it in some cold water to keep the swelling down. Any residual pain should subside by this evening, but soaking will accelerate the process." He then pulled her into a standing position as she did her best to balance on her uninjured foot. Before she could make any further protests, he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the lavatory, completely ignoring the flustered and now frightened looking Amir, who continued to stand just inside the doorway to the parlor.

Once they arrived, Erik sat Christine on the edge of the large bathtub, allowing her still shoed foot to hang safely outside of it. He then inserted the plug and began to fill it with a few inches of cold water.

"This should suffice," he informed her as the chilly liquid began to creep its way up her foot until it was completely submerged. "Allow it to soak for at least ten minutes and that will do it a world of good."

"How do you know so much about everything, Erik?" she asked, deciding that there was no subject that he did not seem to be an expert on.

"I do a lot of reading," he told her, his admission sounding almost sad for some reason. "And I knew the sooner I replaced your toe's location the better off you would be."

"Well…that was still not nice the way you did it. You could have at least warned me first," she huffed, swishing her foot around in the cold water.

"When you were aware of my intentions you were incapable of holding still," he explained with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "I simply took advantage of the Daroga's appearance to expedite matters. You cannot argue with my results."

"Argue…no," she mused, a slight smile coming to her face. "Take offence…most certainly!" Yet all her scorn was lost by the little giggle that followed, telling Erik that she did not truly hold it against him. "I am sorry I was such a baby about it all…but it hurt!"

"I know, Christine, and I am very sorry to have caused you further pain," he assured her. He then turned his head and looked towards the door. "Will you be all right here alone for a bit? I find I must deal with our unwanted houseguest."

Erik's tone had turned more serious and Christine could tell that he was upset with the Persian for some reason. Was it only because he had arrived so unexpectedly…or was something else bothering him.

"Please do not let him leave before I am finished here," Christine begged. "It would be nice to visit with him for a spell."

"Oh?" Erik turned back to look at her questioningly. Why would she possibly wish to speak with Amir? Was he alone no longer entertaining enough to fulfill her need for companionship?

"Would you please just ask him to stay a little longer?" she persisted, not offering up any further reasons.

"Very well..." he agreed with a long sigh. "I will see that he does not leave too quickly. Now you sit there and soak your foot for a while longer. I will return to fetch you when I think it has been a sufficient amount of time."

He waited for her to nod in agreement and then exited the room, making his way back to the parlor where the bane of his existence now paced anxiously. As he entered the room, Amir stopped and stared at Erik, half expecting him to lunge forward and grab him around the throat again for his most recent offence. Perhaps having put his blade back in his boot was not such a good idea after all?

Yet instead, Erik simply walked over to his chair and sat down, crossing one leg over his other knee and resting his elbows on the armrests with his fingers steepled together. Amir also took a seat opposite him, cautiously perched at the very edge of the chair, ready to jump up and run if things should suddenly turn violent.

"So…" Erik began in a low and threatening tone. "Once again you come bursting in like a white knight prepared to do battle with the evil dragon in order to protect the fair damsel."

"Erik…I…" Amir spoke up, attempting to defend himself, but he truly had nothing to say.

"The fact that you arrived holding a weapon was proof enough of your thoughts." Erik did not appear to be in the mood to listen to excuses. "Do you seriously believe me capable of such atrocities against her personage? You truly think me _that kind_ of monster? I may be a killer, Daroga, but I would sooner be a slave to the Shah once again than harm a single hair on that girl's head!"

"Erik…I am sorry," Amir lamented, looking down in shame. "But when I heard Christine cry out…followed by some of what you said…I…I just…"

"Thought the worst of me…again!" Erik finished, his tone now a mixture of anger and hurt.

"I said I was sorry, what more can I do?" he asked in a pleading tone.

"A few things come to mind, but most would require me having to bother with disposing of your body," Erik huffed, turning his head as if he couldn't stand to look at him. He remembered Christine's previous words, of how she believed the Persian admired him. _Ha!_ Her idea now seemed even more preposterous than before!

"Are you truly this incapable of forgiveness, Erik?" Amir asked, becoming defensive.

"Of course I am capable," he assured him. "I am more than willing to forgive any minor, innocent transgressions…as long as it is the fair Christine who is asking it of me." He then appeared to be giving it some thought. "However, I cannot imagine any scenario where an angel such as she would ever require my forgiveness…so the entire point is completely inconsequential."

"You are hopeless," the Persian muttered, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"If that is the case, why do you continue to plague me with your presence?" Erik pressed.

"Because if it were not for me…if I had not intervened as I did back in Persia, then I would not lie awake at night and worry about what your next scheme might be or what you plan to do!" Amir fumed, his face turning an alarming shade of red. "Do you have any idea how this whole thing burdens my mind?"

"What exactly causes you such weighty concern?" Erik asked, his eyes narrowing just a bit.

"Her, blast you! Christine!" he just about exploded. "Can you not see just how unorthodox this is? What exactly _are_ your intentions, Erik? What are your feelings towards the girl?"

"I do not understand what you mean," Erik lied smoothly. "She is here, she needs caring for and I provide this."

"Let me ask you this question then…and I want an honest answer," he warned, waiting until Erik gave a slight nod of agreement before he continued. "Do you find yourself thinking about her all the time?"

Now it was Erik's turn to become agitated and he began to squirm in his seat just a little.

"She is living in my home, you foolish man," Erik spat. "I take care of her, so of course she is on my mind. It would be impossible not to constantly think of her needs and wishes."

Amir gave a heavy sigh. "Let me try again. How would you feel if she left?"

This question caused Erik to bound from his chair and loom over the now frightened man as he gave a low and threatening growl.

"If you try and take her away from me, I will destroy you!" Erik swore, his fingers once more itching to encircle the Persian's throat.

"No! I did not mean _me_!" he protested, holding up his hand in defense as he leaned back in the chair in order to distance himself from Erik's menacing stare. "I have no death wish! But what if _she_ told you that she was unhappy and wished to leave? What would you do then?"

Erik's eyes grew cold as he stared at Amir for a few seconds longer, then he began to pace the floor, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Christine can't leave…she…she needs her Erik," he insisted, almost as if he were speaking to himself and not the Persian.

"But what if she _didn't_ need you?" he persisted, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. "What if she _asked_ to leave…would you force her to stay?"

Erik stopped his pacing and turned to look into the fireplace, watching the flames dance before his eyes as if in deep contemplation. Finally he placed his hand on the mantle and leaned forward, supporting himself as he spoke his next words.

"No…Erik would let her go," he admitted quietly. "He would not hold her here against her will."

"I see…" Amir said, bringing his hand up to rub his chin in thought.

"You see what? That Erik…that _I_ am a fool?" he questioned bitterly, breaking out of his disturbing habit of speaking in third person.

"No…it would appear that_ I_ am the fool in this case. A fool for not seeing it sooner," he muttered, his eyes now taking on an almost sad expression.

"Seeing what?" Erik asked, still not bothering to look his way.

"That you truly are a man in love." At this, Erik turned and stared at Amir as if he had sprouted a second head. "_You_ are in love with Christine Daae."

"I…" Erik began, but he found he could not speak another word, neither to confirm nor deny his statement. Was it true? Had he allowed his emotions of pity and concern for the girl morph into…_love?_ He admitted he had feelings for her, deep ones in fact, but had they become so strong that they had finally touched his cold heart? The idea left his body shaking and wracked with sweat. He was not capable of love! _Was he?_ He didn't know what to do with such feelings for another person, knew nothing about how to woo and cajole. He was _Erik_…a killer, a scoundrel and a monster…not someone who could love! "It appears you are correct, Amir…" Erik replied at last. "You _are_ a fool! Love is not meant for me, Daroga. I am incapable of such a thing and you should know it."

"Then I pity you, Erik," he said with a sad shake of his head. "For in the other room there is a woman who could honestly learn to care for you."

"Why? Because she is _blind?"_ Erik spat back. "Because she is one of the very few in this world who can actually stand to be around me since she cannot see this monstrosity I call a face?"

"No…because for once in your life you have allowed someone to see the real you…the man you are inside," Amir continued, not deterred by Erik's angry outburst. "Someone even I have never managed to fully catch a glimpse of…until now. I always knew you had great potential, Erik. Dare I believe that you also have the capacity for love as well? You have both been hurt by this world…perhaps you two can help mend each other's pain. You were made for one another, but with Christine you mustn't…" the Persian began, yet thought better of whatever he intended to say and ended simply with a paternal sounding warning. "Just be careful, Erik. For both your sakes."

Erik opened his mouth to say more but the voice of Christine calling his name from the other room stopped him, making him give a silent curse. He had allowed himself to become so wrapped up in his argument with Amir that he had forgotten he left her soaking her foot in the tub. Without a word, he left the room and headed back into the lavatory.

.

.

"I think I am finished," Christine announced when she heard him enter. "My toes feel all pruney." She then held up her bare foot as if to show him the evidence of her statement.

"Forgive me, Christine," he apologized, reaching for a towel. His agitation over what Amir said left no time for embarrassment to set in over his close proximity to her naked appendage. "Has the pain lessened any?"

"Yes, quite a bit in fact," she assured him.

"Excellent. Though I still insist that you remain off of it for at least a day, maybe two. I do not want you to reinjure it from hobbling around," he warned as he scooped her up in his arms once again and headed out the door, stopping only long enough to grab a replacement stocking from her drawer.

"So you intend to carry me around like a child for the rest of the day?" she laughed, lacing her hands around the back of his neck to assist him.

"I will do what needs to be done and nothing more," he insisted, in a matter-of-fact voice.

"So serious," she teased, her face scrunching into a playful frown. "I take it your conversation with the Daroga, as you call him, was not a pleasant one?"

"He was his normal irritating self and if it were not for your previous request, he would have already been tossed out on his ear," Erik informed her as they entered the sitting room. He had not attempted to keep his voice low and only hoped the Daroga had heard every word. From the narrowed eyes and scowl on his face as they entered, he believed that he had. This pleased Erik greatly.

"Mademoiselle, I do hope you are feeling better," Amir spoke up, breaking the tension that Erik seemed to create whenever he entered a room.

"Yes, I am, thank you for asking," she nodded as Erik sat her down in his large, comfortable chair and pulled up the footstool for her to rest her injured foot upon. He then took a few steps away, yet remained at a protective distance, his arms crossed and a warning glare in his eyes.

"I must apologize for bursting in like I did, it was very rude of me," Amir continued, not wishing her to think he had no manners at all. "I confess that I heard you cry out and became alarmed, thinking something was amiss."

"Oh, it was! However, it was my own clumsy fault," she laughed as she gingerly slipped on the thick warm stocking Erik had procured for her now chilly foot. "I honestly do not know how Erik puts up with me. I am nothing but a constant source of trouble for him."

"I am sure he does not see it that way at all," Amir chuckled, doing his best not to take note of the scalding look Erik was giving him. "So tell me, what projects have you been working on lately? I noticed you are in the middle of creating a very handsome looking cap there." Amir gestured towards the knitting basket that sat beside the sofa, displaying her latest attempt at creativity.

"It is meant to be a tea cozy!" she huffed, trying to appear affronted, but failing miserably.

"A thousand pardons!" Amir sincerely apologized. "I fear as a man I am quite inept at judging such things by sight. Of course it is a tea cozy…how silly of me."

His genuine fear of having offended her was plain and that made Christine burst into laughter. Men were such silly creatures.

"I am hardly insulted, Monsieur," she assured him. "I will be the first to admit that I am far from talented when it comes to knitting."

"Well do not give up, Mademoiselle Christine," Amir said in a placating voice. "I am certain if you keep searching, you will indeed find a talent you do excel at."

"There is no need for further searching," Erik spoke up, a touch of pride in his tone. "We have already found her calling and one she is more than capable of answering with great furor."

"Knitting?" Amir questioned, a skeptical look on his face as he once more eyed the deceptive tea cozy.

"No! Singing!" Erik huffed, sounding as if the Persian was the most stupid man alive…and perhaps in Erik's mind he was. "Christine is a marvelous singer! She has the voice of an angel and the talent to be a great star!"

"She…she does?" This was indeed a shock to Amir, not only learning that Christine had a lovely voice, but that Erik deemed it good enough for such high praise. Although, now that he took a moment to think about it, his masked friend's opinion could simply stem from his unspoken love for the girl and in truth she possessed only a passably acceptable voice. A quick glance at the painting that now resided over the fireplace was a prime example of Erik's inability to be impartial where she was concerned. Still, Amir would not argue the point, he had already insulted her knitting, he was not about to do the same with her voice. "That is wonderful. I am very pleased for you."

Erik could easily read Amir's skepticism and the thought that the Persian doubted him - as well as Christine - truly irked him. How dare that tone-deaf, nuisance of a man question his musical critique! He truly _was_ a fool!

"I see you doubt my word, Daroga!" Erik barked, his hands falling to his sides as they balled into fists. "Perhaps a demonstration will convince you otherwise?"

"I never said I doubted you, Erik," Amir protested, then looking over at Christine he added, "I am sure you have a very lovely voice."

"Lovely does not even come close to describing it," Erik continued, once more scooping up Christine like she weighed nothing. "Come, my dear. I think it is time we showed him the truth, just so that he will have a fine meal this evening…as he dines on crow!"

"Erik…I don't know…" Christine began to protest as he carried her to the music room, followed closely behind by a confused Amir. "I…I am not sure I am ready to sing for an audience."

"Nonsense," Erik insisted, setting her down gently next to the piano as she braced herself up against it. "Think of the Daroga merely as a test subject…he will be the first of many in Paris you will amaze and astound with your voice." And before she could further protest, he sat down at the piano and began to play the intro to the song they had practiced all morning.

Christine kept her eyes on the floor as she began to sing, picking up her cue like a professional as Erik played on. At first she sounded a bit nervous, knowing that there were more than Erik's eyes on her this time, but soon she was able to forget all of that and became lost in the music, allowing her voice to soar. When she was finished and the final notes from the piano faded away, there was nothing left but the sound of her heavy breathing, her efforts having left her winded.

"Now what do you have to say, Daroga?" Erik asked in a smug tone as he turned and stared at the gaping man.

"I…I truly have no words," Amir admitted, completely in awe of what he had just heard. At first he had been shocked to see that Erik was so proficient at the piano, having never heard the man play before. Oh, he had suspected, from conversations and his odd fascination with instruments back in Persia, but that was something his masked friend had always kept to himself…_until now._

Yet all of that had been immediately forgotten as the first note issued forth from Christine's lips. Over the next minute or so he had been completely transported to another world, one where music and perfection reigned on high. Amir could see why Erik was so quick to boast about her abilities, for indeed she possessed a great talent. It was no wonder they were so amazingly compatible…they were like two sides of the same coin. Both remarkably gifted, yet while one had the appearance of an angel, the other possessed the face of…well, certainly nothing of a heavenly nature. It broke Amir's heart to see how Erik had watched her with such devotion while she sang, his gaze never leaving her as he obviously played from his heart. The poor man was perhaps even farther gone than the Persian had originally believed.

Amir rose from his seat and walked over to where Christine stood, and taking her hand in his, he kissed the back of it reverently.

"My lady, I have never heard such beauty before," he praised. "I offer you my humblest of apologies for ever doubting you. That was perfection."

"Thank you very much, Monsieur," Christine replied, a blush coming to her cheeks over his flattering words.

"Then it will come as no shock to hear that Christine will be auditioning for the role of lead soprano for the Opera Garnier at the festival being held in less than a month and a half," Erik informed him with a smug smile, standing up from the bench and removing Christine's hand from the Persian's offending grasp. "In fact, that was the sole purpose which brought Miss Daae to Paris in the first place."

Amir's eyes grew wide at this information, clearly seeing the irony of it all.

"Well…that is indeed a…fortuitous turn of events, now isn't it?" he muttered, shaking his head at the whole idea. Just one more piece of the intricate puzzle, so to speak, in his theory about the two of them. Fate certainly had a very interesting sense of humor.

"Yes…isn't it?" Erik agreed, yet the tone in his voice caused Amir to stare at him in confusion, reading more into his cryptic words than perhaps Christine would. He was instantly aware that he would need to proceed with caution once more as it was obvious that Erik was hiding _something_ from the girl. His life could easily hang in the balance if he were to inadvertently say too much and let something slip. "And on that note, we have a favor to ask of you, Daroga. It would seem that Christine has been waiting for a letter from the Opera Garnier that is to inform her of when her audition will be held. Would you be so kind as to check if that correspondence has been sent out and redirect the message here?"

At first Amir was at a loss as to how he should respond, but a none-too subtle nod from Erik gave him the answer.

"Of course, I would be happy to," he agreed enthusiastically. He ignored the fact that there was no way he would ever be able to get his hands on any of her personal mail since it was more than likely resting at the police station with her other belongings…which he still had not discovered a way to retrieve, as Erik had requested.

"Fine, then it is settled," Erik said, clapping his hands together and giving them an almost gleeful rub. "Amir will discover when your audition will be and all you need to do, my dear, is keep preparing for it."

"Are you sure you don't mind, Monsieur Amir?" Christine asked, still not as convinced as Erik. "I do not wish to put you to any pains on my account."

"Nonsense, I would be delighted to assist in any way possible," Amir assured her. Besides he kind of got the impression everything had already been handled by Erik and he was just to play the front man.

"Then you have my thanks," she told him with a smile that could melt the coldest heart. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Monsieur Amir? I may not be the best at making it just yet, but even Erik will now drink what I brew without complaint…well not _too_ many anyway." The jovial tone in her voice was not missed by Amir, neither was the annoyed huff that Erik made over her jest.

"I would love to have tea with you, my dear," Amir assured her, more excited about putting one over on Erik than the actual offer of a hot beverage.

"Then it is such a shame that we used the last of our supply just this morning," Erik broke in, though for some reason he did not sound as disappointed as his words might claim. "Perhaps next time, Daroga."

"Hmmmm, yes…next time," Amir agreed, giving Erik a squinty look and a low hum of displeasure. "I suppose it is for the best, because I truly must be going."

"So soon?" Now Christine did sound genuinely disappointed and that at least stroked Amir's ego, as well as made Erik fume a bit more. "I understand, but it was a pleasure talking with you."

"And it was my great pleasure to hear you sing, Mademoiselle Christine," Amir told her, as Erik began to none too gently escort him to the door. "I look forward to another performance next time," he called over his shoulder, never getting to hear what she might have said to that, for by then he was already being shoved down the hall and towards the still wide opened door.

Erik stopped and stared at it and then back at Amir, a perturbed look on his face. "Were you born in a barn?" he asked, with a roll of his eyes.

"I…I was a bit distracted at the time," the Persian said in defense. "Besides, I might have needed a quick exit and how the hell do I know how to open any of your blasted doors?"

"A secret I intend to guard closely," Erik muttered as the two of them stepped outside.

"Well, I hope you do not intend on keeping how I am supposed to get my hands on this mysterious letter a secret," Amir said, crossing his arms and looking at Erik expectantly.

"That will be quite simple," he responded with a smug smile. "The letter announcing Christine's audition date will be delivered to the home of my young assistant, Victor Batton." He stopped here and gave Amir a knowing look. "And if my suspicions are correct, I believe the two of you are already well acquainted."

Amir simply gave a harrumph and refused to answer.

"The letter will inform Christine that her scheduled date is but a little over a week from now and thus she will need to spend every waking moment in preparation," Erik continued. "Although in truth, she could march up there tomorrow and still easily win a slot to perform the night of the festival. Yet with my aid, she shall do more than win…she will triumph! I can easily guarantee her stunning success."

"But you won't…correct?" Amir asked, his voice now sounding worried. "You would not go so far as to rig the festival or coerce the managers into giving her the title…would you?"

"Of course not! I will remain an impartial bystander where her performance is concerned," Erik answered, sounding affronted. "Christine has the talent and skill to win this contest in her sleep, she will not be needing the assistance of the Opera Ghost whatsoever. Nevertheless, should I hear as much as a whisper of collusion among the judges, even a hint of bribery, I will not hesitate to set things right. Christine will win this contest, no doubt about it, but she shall win fairly."

"Very well, I believe you," the Persian nodded. "I will go by Monsieur Batton's home tomorrow and speak with him about the letter. When it arrives I will deliver it to you immediately."

"We will anxiously await your visit," Erik agreed.

This response made Amir chuckle slightly, causing Erik to cock his head to the side as if trying to guess the reason for his unexpected mirth.

"I bet you never thought you would be saying those words, now did you?" he laughed, causing Erik to roll his eyes.

"Just remember your assignments!" the now irritated masked man ordered, giving him a shove towards the tunnels. "Bring us the letter and don't forget you still need to find a way to get her personal effects from the police station."

"I have not forgotten…but it will take time, Erik!" he whined.

"Just see that it gets done!" He then turned and reentered the house, shutting the door loudly as an indication that their conversation was officially over.

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.

When he made his way back to the music room he was greeted with a stern looking Christine, her arms folded over her chest and her lips pursed in a tight frown.

"Tell me honestly, Erik," she began. "Are we truly out of tea…or did you just wish to get rid of Monsieur Amir?"

Erik took a deep breath and swallowed hard before he answered…truthfully.

"We have plenty of tea," he admitted in a contrite voice. "But that man is like a stray cat…feed him once and he will just keep coming back!" The last part was said in a plaintive tone, one that almost sounded like a whining child, causing all thoughts of further scolding to fly from Christine's mind.

"Oh, Erik," she laughed. "You do make it rather difficult to remain upset with you."

This thought made him smile, such information might prove useful in the future.

"Besides, with him here to distract us, how would we ever find time to practice?" he pointed out, always eager to get back to their music.

"We had lessons all morning, Erik," Christine protested. "When do I get a break? You are more of a slave driver than my mother ever was when trying to get me to practice…and that is saying something!"

"Then I compliment your maternal figure on knowing the importance of training and consistency," Erik huffed.

"Oh, yes, you two would become fast friends immediately, bonding over your combined efforts to make _me_ sing night and day!" By now Christine was grinning from ear to ear, not at all upset, as her words might have indicated. "So do we begin now, or wait until after dinner?"

"Now would suit me fine," Erik offered hopefully.

"Then now it shall be, Maestro," she told him with a wobbly curtsey, doing her best to avoid putting undue weight on her injured toe.

And so they sang…and sang…and sang. Right through dinner and on into the night, and neither one seemed to notice or care one bit.

* * *

**Well, looks like Amir eluded the cold hand of the Grim Reaper once again. Ha ha ha, that man has more lives than an alley cat!**

**Wow...Erik almost went ballistic on him there when Amir was questioning Erik's intentions towards Christine and his wish to 'keep' her. But it shows how much he loves her...even if he will not admit it to himself.**

**Amir was quite impressed with Christine's singing, huh?**

**And DO you think Erik and Christine's Mom would become fast friends? Do you? ha ha.**

**And look! No cliffie!**


	27. Chapter 27

**You are all so wonderful with your reviews! **

**Thank you one and all.**

**Guest Reviews:**

**TheRebbs98:** ha ha, his 'normal irrititing self' ha ha. I am going to tell him you said that. Oh yes, only pretty soprano singers who are blind can get on Erik's good side. I am sorry your major tear jerker is not coming fast enough...may I jerk your tears with something else sooner? Wait for it...

**syrianlight:** Amir will ALWAYS do something rash. ha ha. The letter is coming...soon! Nope, no mercy for Erik, shows that she thinks of him as a normal man, not someone to pity and go easy on. ha ha. I think he learned his lesson with lying, he should tell the truth from now on...I hope. Agreed, they would get along SPLENDIDLY! Amir loved her singing! Erik is willing to break anything of his to make her happy, even his heart. they are rather stinking cute, huh?

**PhantomChristine:** Ha ha, that is funny that you say you can't wait for the next chapter when you have the power to make me post one. ha ha. Little did Erik know he was complimenting Anna, right! No, Erik will do all he can to let her achieve her glory on her own...with him helping her voice of course. But he knows she is independent and would resent him if he manipulated things so she would win.

**Guest:** Glad you are catching up! With Erik's help, Christine will get better, I promise. I think she can't help but fall for Erik...WE HAVE! Erik does have fun playing the Opera Ghost. Oh no, her toe won't bother her for long. Erik will figure out he loves her pretty SOON. ha ha.

**Mystery:** Thanks for not blaming Amir. He thanks you for your support. Christine was rather sheltered as a child and she is blind, so yes, she can act a bit naive and helpless at times. I think singing on stage will bolster her confidence...if she impresses the managers that is.

**Lovedit:** Oh yes, Amir sees the love in Erik's eyes when he looks at her for sure. Amir is the voice of reason, isn't he? ha ha, yes, Anna's two 'children' getting together is kind of a strange idea, huh? But since they never saw each other as brother and sister...NEVER...it is OK. Maybe strict was not the right word, perhaps 'insistent' that Christine practice sounds better. ha ha. Practice makes perfect (and Erik was already perfect so no need for him to practice, ha ha) I am glad you think Raoul would still like Christine even if she was blind. I too think well of the boy, he is only trying to be helpful, he just does not realize that he should never touch Erik's toys!

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**Chapter 27**

**Love**

* * *

Amir did return two days later, with the letter from the Opera Garnier in hand. When Erik read the contents to Christine - mostly from memory - she had squealed with glee, and much to his delight, engulfed him in a spontaneous embrace. Erik's first instinct was to shut his eyes and revel in her display of delightful affection, but with the Persian standing nearby, he did his best to appear unaffected. It proved the struggle.

"Oh, Erik, only a week!" she sounded both excited and nervous at the same time.

"Yes, only seven days. So we must be diligent in your training until that time," Erik instructed, keeping his tone very stern and resolute.

"I will sing night and day!" Christine assured him, quite eager to do her very best. "But…how will I get there, and what will they say when they learn I cannot see?"

"I have already come up with a plan to cover that situation," Erik informed her, sounding quite proud of himself. "Your injured toe gave me the idea, you see. When you arrive at the opera house, you shall do so under the guise of having a minor foot injury, a turned ankle or some such thing. Serious enough so that you require someone's assistance, yet not so dire that it would hamper your performance later on at the festival. This way you can be escorted on and off the stage without them being the wiser. I have it on good authority that the managers are rather dense individuals, so fooling them will not be too difficult."

This last statement triggered a snort of laughter from Amir, which in turn earned him a very cold stare from Erik, causing him to compose himself as quickly as possible.

"Who will be my escort then?" Christine asked, liking the idea. "You, Erik?"

"No…not me, my dear," he informed her, his voice betraying his regret. "As much as I would love to be there for your moment of triumph, I fear that I will not be able to accompany you this time."

"Because of your condition?" Christine guessed, referring to his supposed aversion to the sun. "I understand completely, but if not you…then who?"

When Erik turned and looked at Amir, the poor man's eyes grew wide and he began to wave his hands frantically as if begging Erik not to speak his name. The masked man grinned wickedly at the distress this was causing, but after a few more moments of sinful pleasure, he let him off the hook.

"I will instruct my assistant, Victor, to escort you to your audition," Erik revealed, hearing the man beside him release a grateful sigh. "We can say he is a cousin of yours, offering you his assistance in your time of need."

"And he will not mind doing this?" Christine asked, ever thoughtful of other's feelings.

"Mind? Why would he mind?" Erik asked, as if the question was completely absurd. Christine was a lovely girl, it was an easy assignment and the man was being paid handsomely to do so…why on earth would he mind?

"I am sure the lad would be delighted to escort you, Christine," Amir broke in when Erik seemed too stunned to answer. "I would do so myself, but I fear it would be rather difficult for me to pose as any relative of yours."

"I understand, Monsieur," Christine chuckled, trying to imagine just how little the two of them resembled one another.

"Then it is all set," Erik announced, once more finding his voice. "If you will excuse us now, Amir, we have lessons to see to."

"Really?" Amir sounded hopeful. "I would love to stay and listen for a bit."

"That would be highly distracting," Erik objected, once more pushing the now pouting Persian towards the door. Erik called back over his shoulder as he went, "Christine, please begin your warm ups, I will be back shortly."

Once they were by the door and out of earshot Amir pulled his arm from Erik's grasp with a grumble of protest.

"All you need do is ask and I will gladly vacate the premises, Erik. It is not necessary to constantly manhandle me," Amir fumed, smoothing out the wrinkles Erik had made in his fine jacket.

"It has never worked before," Erik pointed out.

"Still, a bit more courtesy would not kill you," he huffed.

"Oh, it might," was Erik's reply with a roll of his eyes.

"I suppose I should be grateful that you did not assign me the job of escorting Christine to her audition," Amir admitted, his tone sounding relieved. "I do not know how I would have explained my affiliation with such a lovely girl as Christine to Monique, should she see us together at the opera house. I fear she is quite the jealous type and I do not wish for her to be angry with me for any reason, especially one that is not my fault."

"Yes, Daroga, I was only thinking of you," Erik replied sarcastically. "Now…weren't you leaving?"

"I'm going!" Amir blustered as he exited the door, his face heated with anger. "One day, Erik…one day you will really need my help, only to find that you have burned one too many bridges… and then where will you be?"

"Safely on the opposite side of the river from you!" Erik said with a chuckle as he shut the door in his face. He couldn't help but smile even wider as he heard the grumblings of the Persian fade away into the tunnels. Oh, he did enjoy irritating that man!

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.

The next seven days seemed to fly by, not only for Christine but for Erik as well. From dawn till dusk he sailed through each day, blissfully happy as he spent every waking moment wrapped in the two things he loved – music and Christine's presence. Since he was now able to share his greatest passion with the woman he cared for most in the world, he could not seem to wipe the smile off his face. _A smile?_ Was it possible that the infamous Opera Ghost had something to be happy about?

Apparently so!

That is not to say every moment was perfect or without agitation. Heavens, no! It turned out that Christine was not as meek and mild as she had first appeared and often the two would find themselves in a heated argument over some piece of music, debating whether or not a rest would sound good here, or perhaps a shift in tempo there. Erik appeared most offended when she questioned_ his_ personal compositions, offering suggestions which he refused to accept and the battle of wills would eventually end with an explosion on his part as he stormed from the room.

Such episodes were quickly followed by him returning to humbly apologize, begging her forgiveness for his inexcusable behavior. His heart swelled with emotion every time she would tenderly pardon his appalling actions, admitting that perhaps she was partially to blame for their argument. They would then begin anew, each one giving in just a bit until a compromise was reached and their lessons would continue.

Yet the day when Christine appeared to have reached the end of her patience and turned on _him_…well, that was a day he would remember with unmitigated pride. Not because of the way she had railed at him, bitterly scolding him for his harsh tone and demanding ways, but for the fact that it was at that moment Erik saw a true diva come alive. Christine would need such fire, such initiative, to survive among the barracudas of the music world and with a large smile he knew his little angel truly had what it took to thrive in that environment. This time it was she who chose to storm out of the room, leaving him sitting there with a stunned smile on his face, feeling his heart swell with admiration over his perfect little creation. Of course, he had to admit it was completely unacceptable to treat her vocal coach that way, yet he decided that he could easily overlook it…_this time._

Giving her plenty of opportunity to cool down and see the error of her ways for treating him so abhorrently, Erik busied himself with a few tunes until he heard her light little steps returning to the room. She had her head bowed in shame and her hands folded penitently in front of her as she stood there just inside the doorway.

"Erik?" she began, her voice full of remorse.

"Yes, Christine?" he responded, halting his playing as he turned on the piano bench to look at her expectantly.

"I…I am sorry for how I yelled at you," she admitted at last, the shame she felt more than evident. "I was tired, frustrated and….and so very scared, but that is no excuse to take it out on you."

"Scared?" Erik questioned, his brows knitting together in a frown as all his gleeful anticipation over her apology faded away. "What on earth have you to be frightened of?" He prayed it was not due to anything _he_ had done.

"I...I am worried about the audition…it is only two days away and…and what if I fail?" she all but wailed as she felt her way to the sofa and threw herself down, folding her arms over the back and burying her head as she sobbed. "Forget that I can't see a thing and will be lying to the managers the whole time…what if on top of all that, they…they don't even like me?"

"Christine," Erik began, standing up and walking over to where she sat. He cautiously perched beside her, patting her back as she continued to face away from him. "There is no possible way they will not love you. Your voice is sublime…without equal. You were rightly chosen to audition for this festival and you will dazzle the judges with minimal effort."

His words had the desired effect and she immediately twisted in her place and threw her arms around his torso, hugging him as she laid her cheek on his chest. Once more Erik held his breath and shut his eyes, soaking in the warmth she offered. Yes, they would love her…how could they not…he certainly did.

Oh, GOD! Erik's eyes flew open. _He loved her!_

Amir had said it…he had even wondered about it himself…but now he _knew_. He loved her! Erik Trouville _loved_ Christine Daae!

The thought scared him more than anything in his past. The idea was almost laughable…he…Erik…finally loved someone? And not just anyone…oh, no, he had to go and fall for a goddess. In his wildest dreams he had thought perhaps he might one day seek out some poor, unattractive woman with no prospect, who would see him as a reasonable alternative to starvation. Perhaps she might have been willing to marry him just to better her pathetic existence - though in his mind her situation would have to be dire indeed to merit such a sacrifice. However, even he had felt deflated by the idea of securing a companion that way. Desperation did not lend itself to kindness or loyalty and he longed to be accepted for himself and not for what he could provide monetarily. No, thoughts such as those had been repulsive and fleeting, only to be dredged up in his lowest moments of misery.

Yet now… wrapped in his arms was everything his heart could possibly desire, yet he had never dreamed possible. Christine was kind, intelligent, talented, beautiful and oh, so perfect. Was it even possible that she could also one day be his? Perhaps…yet only if she remained blindly oblivious to his faults…his face being number one on that list. His mind spun back to the things Anna had said about love, how _one day he would understand_…well that day had finally arrived. Yet how might he go about wooing her? Erik's only knowledge of such things came from what his nanny had said her wicked ex-husband had done while courting her…offering candle lit dinners, roses and walks along the Seine. Yet, how could those things help him? Christine was blind, so she could not see the romantic glow of candle light while they dined or appreciate the rosy red hue of a dozen roses, and what pleasure could she derive from the moonlight reflecting off the waters of the river? Still, he cherished Christine…worshiped her in fact…and wanted nothing more in this world than to love and care for her, desperately hoping that perhaps she could one day show such regard for him in return. Was it so much to ask? Up to this point, Erik's life had been horridly abysmal, making him wonder, was it so farfetched to believe he might at last deserve _one_ good thing? Was Christine truly to be his reward for a lifetime of suffering? And if that was the case, Erik was more than happy to accept her as payment in full!

"Thank you, Erik," Christine mumbled as her tears seemed to abate. "You always know just what to say to make me feel better."

"I only speak the truth," he assured her, reaching up to stroke her hair, enjoying the feel of her silken tresses as he let one or two of the tempting curls wrap around his finger. _Such loveliness._

After a few minutes she reluctantly pulled away and accepted his offer of a handkerchief, wiping away the last of her tears.

"I am willing to continue on…if you are prepared to accept my apology that is," she offered, a hopeful smile on her face.

"No apology necessary," he informed her, feeling extremely out of place now that he was indeed on the receiving end of her regret. "And I cannot think of anything I would rather do than hear you sing Christine."

"I wish you could be there at my audition," she confessed as he helped her rise. "I would feel so much more confident if you were with me."

"I _will _be there, Christine. I will be with you in spirit. Never forget that," he assured her. "You will feel me there even if you cannot see me." And while _she_ had no way of knowing this, Erik was confident that nothing short of his untimely death would keep him from being present at her audition. Not now that he understood without a doubt that he loved her so completely and without reservation. No…from now until eternity, _nothing _would keep Erik from Christine's side!

.

.

The day finally arrived and with it an unexpected fear that Erik had not anticipated. It had nothing to do with the audition directly, for he knew Christine was more than prepared and would astound the managers and Monsieur Reyer. This almost incapacitating terror stemmed from the idea that she was about to leave his home and worse yet…his presence! It was amazing how in such a short period of time he had become so dependent on her companionship, her smile and her laughter. He had once likened her to a drug and as he escorted her further and further from his underground home, he could feel the sickening panic that he had once associated with the feelings of withdrawals. Several times during their ascent he almost turned back, wishing for nothing more than to hide her away once again and keep her all to himself. But no…he could not do such a thing, for Christine deserved this chance to shine. The world needed to recognize her talents and abilities and he would not steal that from her, no matter how much he now wished to.

Erik had sent Victor a very thorough letter containing his instructions about what was to transpire during his assignment as Christine's escort. Details about the part he would need to play as well as some very heinous threats over things he should not divulge to his little charge. Such as the fact that Erik could indeed go above ground and walk about in the sun if he chose to do so, or that he was in anyway affiliated with the building and subsequent haunting of the Opera Garnier, and most importantly…that he wore a mask! All these things Erik was risking that Christine might learn when parted from his side, but for the chance of her happiness, he swallowed his fear and jeopardized it all.

_What a fool he was_, Erik berated himself.

When they at last emerged in the secluded area of the Rue Scribe, Christine put a hand on Erik's arm to stop him. From the look in her eyes, Erik could tell that he was not the only one who had fears. This would be Christine's first trip to the city since her attack, and he could see that even now she was haunted by the memory. Still, he watched as she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and bravely stepped out into the light. For a moment she stood there, tipping her face upwards as she let the warm rays of the afternoon sun kiss her skin, smiling at the sensation. Then suddenly she turned to him with a look of concern.

"Isn't it dangerous for you to be out here in the sun this way?" she asked in a worried tone.

"I am well covered and there is plenty of shade here to protect me," Erik argued, not wishing for her to be the least bit concerned over him or his make-believe condition. This was her day, she should only be thinking of her audition.

Erik could see Victor waiting, just as planned, at the far end of the alley. The young man seemed almost as anxious as Erik felt and he had a suspicion it was due to the rather descriptive threats he had placed in the letter. _Good_, it was best that Victor knew just how much his life and livelihood depended on Christine's safety and continued ignorance of his true nature. And while he might not honestly intend to do all the diabolical things to the man that he had described - should Victor fail this day - Erik would certainly see that his life was thoroughly ruined…_or ended_…he had not yet made up his mind which.

"Monsieur Erik," Victor greeted them as they approached, giving a respectful bow and tipping his hat. Yet when Christine turned her head towards the sound of his voice, allowing the young man to see her face, which up till then had been hidden by the hood of her cloak, he gave a sudden gasp.

Erik's eyes narrowed and his perceptive mind could almost read Victor's thoughts. It was true that the young man had been fully aware that Erik had been harboring a female houseguest, but apparently he had never dreamed it might be one this lovely. Should Erik now worry about leaving Christine in the hands of this young pup who had the distinct potential of developing some schoolboy crush? Erik suddenly wondered if he should not have employed the aid of the reluctant, yet elderly, Daroga after all.

"Victor, may I introduce to you Mademoiselle Christine Daae," Erik began, his jaw still tight over the obvious twinkle in the young man's eyes. It occurred to Erik that other than his aptitude for taking direction and being at the ready to fulfill his every command, he knew very little about his assistant. Was he currently courting some pretty little maid or was he a wolf on the prowl? For his sake, Victor better be the former or Erik would not hesitate to neuter the lustful lupine. Either way, Erik was going to make sure he left no doubt in the boy's mind about how easily his life depended on his sense of decorum.

"It is very nice to meet you, Victor," Christine said as she gave a small curtsy. The fact that Erik failed to provide the last name of his assistant was not lost on her, yet, for the time being she chose to ignore the oddity and continue with their introductions.

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," was his eager response. "It will be an honor to escort you to your audition, mademoiselle."

"Yes, and it is best we get to it," Erik interjected gruffly. "Where is the carriage?"

"This way," Victor gestured as he led the two of them out of the alley and around the corner. There a fine cab was waiting and much to Erik's pleasure, Victor had chosen one where the driver sat inside a partially enclosed box. This prevented the hired man from being overly snoopy and allowed Erik a modicum of privacy in order to say his farewells.

Quickly opening the door, Erik moved to assist Christine inside, wishing to see her off before his misgivings took over and he changed his mind completely. Yet before he could, she stopped him short by once more throwing her arms around him in a quick, but delicious, embrace.

"Thank you, Erik…for everything," she whispered quietly, her tender words for his ears alone.

"You are most welcome," he managed to choke out as she turned and felt her way into the luxurious cab. He stood there for a moment, just staring at her while she settled in, smoothing out her dress in a nervous gesture. He saw Victor make a move to climb up as well, acting far too eager to be locked away with his precious Christine for their long ride. Erik stopped him cold by taking hold of his arm none too gently and dragged the enthusiastic imp to the side, away from prying eyes…and ears. "I trust that you will comport yourself with the utmost propriety the entire time Mademoiselle Daae is in your company?" And while to some it might have appeared a question, the fear in Victor's eyes assured that he understood it as it was meant to be…a threat of the most dangerous nature.

"Of…of course, Monsieur!" the young man stammered.

"And you will see that she is not accosted or confronted by anyone, man or beast?" Erik pressed. "For if I hear that you were negligent in her care, I will not hesitate to exact the proper punishment for your ineptitude. I trust I have made myself perfectly clear on this."

"You…you have, Monsieur," Victor assured him, his face now almost as white as Erik's mask. "The lady will be well cared for and returned to you here, just as you directed."

"Do you fully comprehend the importance of the discretion I informed you of in my letter?" Erik needed to hear this part right from Victor's own lips.

"Perfectly," he nodded vehemently.

"Excellent, now you best be going. You will need to drive around for a while before bringing her back to the opera," Erik instructed. "We can't have her believing that she was this close all along." That part too had been detailed in the letter, explaining how Christine needed to think that she had been picked up at the edge of the city and forced to travel some distance to the Opera Garnier.

"I have already informed the driver of this and with the amount he was paid, he had no objections to the odd request," Victor informed him.

"Good. Just do not allow her to be late. This is very important and first impressions are key." Erik then took the boy by the arm once more and directed him to the cab, watching as he climbed up inside and sat opposite Christine. It was with a heavy heart that he tapped on the side of the carriage, alerting the driver that it was time to go. He watched after them until they were far down the road, his precious Christine stolen from his sight, before with a swish of his cape he hurriedly returned to the tunnels. Erik knew it would take them quite some time to arrive back at the opera house, but his anxiety would not allow him to think of anything else but making it to Box Five where he would wait for the opportunity to see her once again.

.

.

"So, Monsieur, how long have you worked for Erik?" Christine asked, wishing to end the uncomfortable silence between them in the carriage.

"A little over six years," Victor answered after a moment of thought, his mind running over every detail that was to be kept secret as outlined in the letter Erik had sent him. He knew he would have to be very careful with his answers if he were not to give too much away and anger his employer.

"That is quite a long time. I take it you know Erik rather well, then, Monsieur…?" she pressed. "Forgive me but I am afraid that I did not catch your last name."

"You may call me Victor…just Victor," he insisted, recalling Erik's forbiddance that last names be used around the girl. "And I suppose I know Monsieur Erik well enough…at least as much as anyone can," he answered with a nervous shrug. "I know his habits and his preference on certain items…but nothing about him personally. He is a rather private man, keeps to himself and is not much for conversation."

"I have noticed," Christine said with a knowing smile, still a bit irritated over the fact that it appeared she was not allowed to know Victor's surname. Much the same as she had yet to learn what Amir's was as well.

"But I am very happy to be in his employment," Victor added quickly, not wishing to sound as if he were complaining. "He has been very generous over the years and with his assistance I have been able to attend a prestigious trade school as well as keep my family off the streets. Without Monsieur Erik, I don't know where I would be right now."

"You have a family then? A wife and children?" Christine asked, now curious about this man Erik had entrusted her with.

"Me…married? Oh, no! I…no…I am not," he stammered and even without her eyesight, she could tell he was blushing. "I meant my mother and three sisters. I have been looking after them ever since my father was killed in a railroad accident seven years ago. I dropped out of school and went looking for any job I could find, but there was not much available for a fourteen year old kid with no experience. If I had not fallen into the job of running errands for Monsieur Erik, I am sure my family would have been left begging on the streets."

"It would seem we both owe Erik a great debt," Christine said with a smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her gloves. They slipped into silence for a bit before Victor dared to speak again.

"I do have to say that I was very happy to hear that you were staying with Monsieur Erik," Victor spoke up, giving a nervous laugh. "When he began asking me to purchase ladies' apparel, I am rather ashamed to say that I feared for his sanity. I was extremely relieved when I heard they were for you, and not…well…" he stopped there as Christine began to giggle uncontrollably.

"You thought he was purchasing dresses for himself?" she asked, trying her best to remain dignified.

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" the young man asked, sounding a bit embarrassed. "He lives alone, he never socializes and I had never seen him even look at a lady in all the time I worked for him."

"I am sorry, Monsieur," Christine told him between gasps for air. "I am just having a very hard time picturing Erik in a dress!"

Victor was quiet for a moment more and then he too joined Christine in laughter, the image she had suggested being just too ridiculous to imagine.

"Just do not tell him about this, please," Victor begged once their mirth had simmered to the occasional chuckle. "Like I said, I enjoy my job and would like to keep it."

"I will not tell a soul," she assured him. "Besides I doubt Erik would find as much humor in this as we have."

"Indeed," Victor agreed. He then glanced out the window, just as the coach came to a stop. "It would appear that we have arrived, Mademoiselle. Behold, the Opera Garnier!"

Over the past weeks, Christine had wished and prayed so many times for her sight to return, but none as much as she desired it at this very moment. She had walked by the building many times since arriving in Paris and had even gone inside to see if she could ascertain when her audition might be scheduled. But knowing that she was now going to be allowed on the stage was an unparalleled delight. If only she could see the fabled red velvet seats in the auditorium, or the gold fringe that lined the curtain on stage. There was said to be gilding everywhere and intricately carved salacious statues that were so real they would cause both maiden and salty sailor to blush scarlet. She yearned to see it all, down to the last grandiose detail…but it was not to be. Still, she was here at last, going inside and soon to be singing at the Opera Garnier…even if it was just an audition. Oh, how she wished Erik could be there beside her.

"Now remember, Mademoiselle, I am supposed to be your cousin," Victor reminded her as he helped her out of the cab.

"Then I would think it wise that you call me Christine," she advised. "If you address me in such a formal manner it will certainly give us away."

"Oh…I get the feeling that Monsieur Erik would not approve of me referring to you in such a familiar way," he said in a nervous voice.

"It is essential to our deception, and you would not wish to anger Erik by compromising his plan with a slip of the tongue, would you?" She knew that playing on the man's fear of his employer was a bit unfair, but it got results.

"Of course not…Christine," he agreed, falling into line as he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, leading her up the steps towards the entryway. Once inside he helped her out of her cloak and took it, as well as his own jacket, to the coat-check room, passing them off to a rather bored looking woman who was busy reading a society magazine. He immediately returned and taking her hand once more, led her towards where he assumed the auditions were being held…following the sound of someone singing. "And don't forget to limp," he whispered. "You are suffering from a sprained ankle…remember?"

"Right," Christine nodded, having completely forgotten the ruse Erik had concocted for why she needed an escort. It was not hard to fake, for she had only fully recovered from her toe injury a few days ago and the way she had been forced to hobble around was fresh in her mind.

They had just arrived at the base of the grand staircase when they were greeted by a authoritative looking woman holding a stack of programs in one hand and a walking stick in the other.

"May I help you?" she asked, eyeing the young couple curiously.

"We are looking for the auditions," Victor said, speaking up for the two of them. "My…cousin here has an appointment."

"Auditions are being held in the auditorium," she informed them. "Up the stairs and to the left, you will see a sign leading you to the correct door."

"Thank you, Madame," Christine responded with a warm smile.

"Just don't get yourselves lost," she warned. "It is not safe for people to wander around the opera house unescorted. You are liable to fall prey to the Opera Ghost, should you stumble into his domain…and _he_ will not care if it was done by accident." Then, with a laugh that had them wondering if she had been serious or only joking, she proceeded on her way, leaving the two alone once more.

"Opera Ghost?" Christine whispered to Victor once the sound of the woman's shoes had disappeared down the hallway. "I had heard of the rumors surrounding this in-house specter, but they don't honestly believe in such nonsense, do they?"

Victor could feel the nervous sweat trickling down his back, suddenly getting an uneasy sensation that they were being watched.

"I have no idea," he lied, ushering her along with a hurried step as he scanned the shadows with a wary eye. "But regardless, I am sure it is nothing that _you_ need to worry about."

* * *

**Soooo, how did you like their arguments during singing lessons?**

**That Erik now realizes without a doubt that he LOVES her! Truly LOVES her!**

**His concern about her leaving his side and going out in the world again?**

**Poor Victor and all the guff he takes from Erik.**

**Hmmmm, I wonder why Victor said that Christine didn't have to worry about the Opera Ghost? ha ha.**

**Guess we will see if she does well at the audition on Friday!**


	28. Chapter 28

**HELLO EVERYONE!**

**Thanks to TheResidentArtichoke we now can see what Erik looks like in a dress. She found this picture on Deviantart. Look under Muirin007. It' called Tutu!**

**Be sure to read the important message at the end of the chapter, OK?**

**Guest Reviews:**

**TheRebbs98:** I know, it IS about time. I think Erik pays Victor enough to buy his silence. ha ha. Thanks I appreciate you saying so! And Amir did not take to kindly to being called old and decrepit. ha ha.

**syrianlight:** Yes, Erik does not want her to know about his 'other job'. ha ha. Don't worry, Victor gets compensated. Erik likes the hugs. Oh I do hope their outing is better this time too.

**cora deblaere:** Yep, let the song take flight!

**PhantomChristine:** Hey, no ganging up on the authoress...ha ha. I have my own time table, you just have to wait, ha ha. "I LOVE YOU" there, I wrote it...happy? ha ha. Probably not quite what you had in mind. ha ha. Everyone found the idea of Erik in a dress funny...everyone but Erik that is.

**Mystery:** It does take guts to talk back to the opera ghost...even if you don't realize you are. I have a few things in mind and *coughRaoulcough* is one of them, but not for a bit. Hey, Christine and Victor hu? Yah that would last all of five seconds and then Victor would be dead. ha ha. Erik does not like green, it is the shade of jealousy. I think you are doing fabulously at thinking of ways to describe fast using Erik as an example. Splendid!

**Chapter 28**

**Audition**

* * *

Erik had been sitting in Box Five, slumped in the tufted chair with his eyes scanning the auditorium for the past half an hour, just waiting for the first glimpse of Christine. When he finally saw the flash of blue from her dress he nearly bounded up and over the rail in an effort to get a better view. Common sense quickly prevailed however, and after a moment he edged his way back, continuing to remain out of sight. It would not do to have someone spot him and ruin Christine's audition with the wild commotion that would follow. No, the Opera Ghost would not spoil today's performance, not for all the francs in Paris.

There were still two singers scheduled before her and Erik felt he might go mad with being forced to wait. He could see her at least, sitting in the third row of seats off to the right, Victor remaining dutifully at her side. He did however note that while the young man's body was beside Christine, it appeared that his eyes and mind were somewhere else entirely. Following his heated stare, Erik could see that Madame Giry's little daughter, Meg, had apparently captured his assistant's attention. The dancer in turn was staring back at him, her usually pale cheeks aflame with the blush of modesty.

_Well this would never do_, Erik thought to himself. He had charged his young assistant with the duty of guarding Christine, not spending his time ogling one of the many senseless ballet rats. And of course he would pick out the most flighty one of all, the little Giry girl! If Victor allowed himself to become distracted by that bit of skirt and failed to keep his mind on his assignment, Erik would see that the boy was replaced!

Yet how difficult would it be to hire a new employee to run his errands? Charles Garnier had been the one to find Victor for him before, and the idea of holding interviews did not sit well with him. There was always the Persian, but he was hardly what one would call reliable, and Erik did not trust him to bring his weekly supplies or to find him a new assistant. He also did not like the way Victor had stared at Christine when they first met…no, not at all. He supposed that killing him might be an option - one he began to toy with in his mind - but that seemed rather drastic when simply sacking the man would efficiently keep him away from her as well. However, Erik was all about speed and efficiency, so if all else failed, there was still the option of just killing the boy.

Erik must have been lost in homicidal thoughts longer than he realized for the next thing he heard was Christine's name being announced.

"Christine Daae," Poligny called, standing up and looking around the auditorium. "Is there a Christine Daae in the house?"

"Yes, I am here," he heard his little angel respond, standing up with the aid of Victor. Ahhh, they were playing their roles beautifully.

"Excellent, please take the stage, Mademoiselle Daae," Poligny offered, gesturing towards it with his hand.

"Daae?" Erik heard Maurice Debienne whisper in the other manager's ear. "Has she not performed before? Her name sounds familiar to me."

Richard Poligny quickly flipped through his pages and scanned for her name. Finding nothing, he looked back and shook his head.

"No, she has not been here that I can see," he announced. "Perhaps her name simply reminds you of another girl? We have heard quite a few of them."

"True, true," Maurice agreed, sitting back in his chair as he prepared himself for what he assumed would be yet another travesty to his ears.

When Richard Poligny looked up from his papers he noted that Victor was still escorting her towards the steps on the side, and he frowned slightly.

"Mademoiselle, I asked that_ you_ to take the stage, not your gentleman as well," Poligny called in a perturbed tone. Was the girl incapable of leaving her lover's side?

"Forgive me, Monsieur," Christine spoke up as she turned her face towards his voice. "I turned my ankle this morning and find that I require the assistance of my dear cousin today. I hope you will not begrudge me his support, for I do not wish to injure it further, which would cause me to be off my feet a day or two more."

Poligny seemed to consider her words and then waved her on, signaling his compliance to having an extra body on stage.

From where he sat, Erik wore a wide grin, seeing that his plan was going well. He watched as Victor directed Christine to center stage, positioning her exactly where she needed to be before stepping away and waiting in the wings. Erik's eyes narrowed, however, when he saw that his assistant had chosen a spot that not only afforded him a perfect view of Christine's audition, but also left him in direct sight of little Meg as well, his eyes constantly trained on the still blushing ballerina.

Yet as Erik scanned the other cast members who had come to watch the goings on, he noticed that of all the people to see, that pernicious Persian was there standing next to Sorelli. The lead ballerina appeared bored with the auditions and Erik could only imagine that it was Amir who had suggested they drop in to see how things were going - probably doing his best not to appear at all interested in any particular applicant. Erik saw the woman whisper something into his ear and pull on the Daroga's arm, perhaps offering him an alternate activity if he would simply give up his curiosity over this and accompany her back to her dressing room. Yet with a kind smile and a kiss on her hand, it appeared that he managed to placate her long enough for them to remain…at least through Christine's audition.

"What will you be singing for us today, Mademoiselle?" Debienne asked in a polite, if not disinterested, voice.

"I will be performing Electra's aria from Act Two of 'Idomeneo' entitled _'Idol mio' ("My sweetheart"), _Christine replied. She had learned that it was one of Erik's favorite operas, the music having been written by Mozart – whom, unlike Chopin, he _did_ admire. Erik claimed that Christine's voice was well suited for it and they had been practicing this piece all week in preparation. When she turned her head to where she hoped Victor now stood off stage, the young man sprung forward and hurried over to the nearby piano where the accompanist sat, handing him the sheet music Erik had provided. The studious looking gentleman took the pages with a nod of approval and placed them before him as he scanned them quickly, ready to begin.

"Proceed then," Poligny instructed, as he sat down next to his partner. The two men were already hours into auditions that day and they had yet to hear anyone who even came close to pleasing them…so why should _this_ girl be any different?

Christine's nerves were twisted in knots and as she took a final breath before the piano accompanist began, she wondered if any sound at all would come out of her mouth when she opened it. But just before she had a chance to find out, she heard…_or rather felt_…the strangest thing. There in her ear, as if he were standing right next to her, Erik's voice whispered softly; _'I have faith in you, Christine. I know you will do wonderfully.'_ And that was all she needed. With a broad smile, she filled her lungs with air and began to sing.

Christine had been singing since she was old enough to speak, yet in all those years she had never felt so confident, so in control of her voice and nerves. It was as if Erik was right there, standing beside her, holding her hand and offering her all the encouragement she needed. And even though she knew he was back in his underground home somewhere outside the city, she sang for him…and only him. If she were to triumph today, it would be in his name, and she was determined to make her maestro proud.

When Christine finished her song, everyone in the auditorium burst forth in a resounding applause, almost startling the young singer with their enthusiasm. From his vantage point high above, Erik too was clapping slowly and quietly as his eyes filled with tears. She had been magnificent, truly magnificent. As the applause finally died down he leaned forward, gripping the brass bar at the front of the box in eager anticipation of what the managers might now have to say.

"Bravo, Mademoiselle Daae! Bravo indeed!" Poligny gushed as he and Debienne elbowed each other excitedly over their new find. "I believe we can say without reservation that you have indeed made the final cut and will be invited to participate in the upcoming festival. Isn't that correct, Monsieur Reyer?"

"Indeed it is," the elderly music director agreed, the huge grin still plastered across his face. "Your voice is a delight and I am more than anxious to hear you perform for us again, la Daae. I have never heard such a marvelous rendition of _'Idol mio'. _You performed it with such precision and feeling. Truly enchanting!"

"Thank you very much," Christine replied, blushing sweetly as she gave them a nervous curtsy.

"I trust that we will see you here for the rehearsals that will begin one week before the festival?" Debienne questioned, not allowing her to leave his sight without a guarantee. "We will be sending out a schedule for the performance and very much look forward to your prompt return. A lot is riding on the outcome of this competition, my dear. I do hope your ankle will be better by then and you will no longer require your cousin's assistance."

This idea seemed to dampen Christine's spirits and Erik saw her countenance fall, but she quickly righted herself and answered politely.

"As do I, Monsieur," she assured him, her tone revealing to Erik her fears concerning her lack of sight, even if no one else was aware. "I thank you very much for your time and the opportunity to perform for you today. It has been my pleasure." She then turned her head towards the side of the stage, signaling to Victor that she was ready to depart, listening as he hurried to her side. After giving a few more words of gratitude to the managers she allowed him to guide her off the stage and up the aisle towards the back of the auditorium, her arms and legs shaking the entire way. At that moment Christine felt that if her _cousin_ had not been supporting her, she may have very well fallen to her knees out of sheer relief.

"Well now, I do believe things are looking up," Poligny stated once Christine and Victor had disappeared through the back doors. "We might be able to find a new soprano after all!"

"I think we just did!" Debienne laughed, slapping his friend on the back with a look of relief.

"Now, now, we must be fair and hear the rest of the applicants," Poligny stated in a stern tone, but then his face softened into a large smile as well. "Though honestly, I really do not see the need."

"I too agree that it is best that we remain impartial," Reyer nodded, having overheard the quiet conversation between the two men. "We would not want our opinions to sway the selected judges in any way. I just hope…well…that _you know who_ is pleased by all this."

The other two men seemed to give a visible shudder as they nervously looked around the auditorium, almost as if they were worried _he_ might suddenly appear. When all was silent, other than the quiet murmurings of those still milling around, they gave a sigh of relief. They were just about to call up the next applicant when a small slip of paper seemed to come from nowhere, floating down in a see-saw motion directly above them. Richard Poligny was the one who reached out with both hands, trapping the flat paper between his palms before opening it up and reading its contents silently to himself.

"What does it say?" Debienne asked in a dramatic whisper, a cold sweat forming on his slightly bald head.

"It…it says, _'I am very pleased'_," Poligny answered, gulping back the fear that had lodged in his throat.

"Well, that's a first!" Monsieur Reyer chuckled nervously, a large smile spreading across his face.

.

.

Victor could not stop grinning as he led the limping Christine from the auditorium and out into the entryway near the grand staircase. She had been wonderful! He was certain that Monsieur Erik would be very proud of his lovely young student. Although with the way his employer had glared at him with such venom in his eyes when he was first introduced to Christine, Victor was beginning to suspect that the mademoiselle was a bit more than just a pupil. If he did not know any better, he might even believe the man was actually have feelings for her…yet that was preposterous. _Right?_

"I can't believe I did it!" Christine squealed clasping her hands together as she spun around in glee. "I have been invited to perform in the festival! I must return at once and inform Erik!"

"I paid the cab driver to wait for us, so we can leave at any time," Victor agreed, quickly retrieving their coats from the hat-check girl. Though, if truth be told, he was more than certain his employer was already well aware of the joyous news. For several years now he had suspected that Monsieur Erik was the one masquerading as the Opera Ghost, having put the pieces together when everyone in Paris began to describe what this Phantom supposedly looked like. It was not hard to guess that the gentleman he worked for and this ghost were one in the same - and while he never confronted Erik about it, he was more than sure the masked man was well aware that Victor had caught on.

Yet, Victor would never betray the man's secret, not only because he admired him for the kindnesses he had shown him, but for the fact that his salary would surely stop if word ever got out and his employer was forced to leave the city. Victor had no loyalties to the Opera Garnier or its foolish managers, so what did he care if Monsieur Erik chose to terrorize the place and extort an exorbitant amount of money each month for his use? If anything, the tales of the Opera Ghost had only bolstered the notoriety of the place, guaranteeing that they played to a sold out house each night. Many patrons, in fact, only came to see if they might catch a glimpse of the resident Phantom, the titillating chance drawing in many who would not normally attend such events. In truth, Victor found the whole thing rather amusing.

He was about to lead Christine out the front entrance when a sweet little voice behind them stopped him cold.

"Mademoiselle…Monsieur," Meg Giry called as she gracefully made her way towards them. "I…I wished to congratulate you on a spectacular performance."

Victor was stunned, for there before him was the delicate little pixie who had caught his eye while they had waited. He had stared openly at her, feeling no shame as she too had glanced his way beneath hooded eyes. Yet now…how would he find the courage to _speak_ with her?

"I thank you very much, Mademoiselle…" Christine spoke out, sensing that Victor was in no condition to answer, for she felt him tense up and freeze at the girl's presence. Of course Christine had no way of knowing, but from the way he was acting, she could imagine that their new acquaintance must be very pretty.

"Meg…Meg Giry," the girl answered, introducing herself. "I am one of the ballerinas here and was present for your audition."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Meg. My name is Christine and this is my cousin, Victor." She then nudged him in the ribs, encouraging him to speak.

"Y-y-yes…it is indeed a pleasure, Mademoiselle Giry," Victor choked out at last.

"After an audition like that, I trust that we will see you around the opera house more often?" Meg questioned. "Both of you?"

Christine tried to hide her grin as she noted the tone of hope in the girl's words, especially when she mentioned Victor as well. Perhaps today would be celebrated for more than one reason, she thought.

"I am sure you will, though I fear neither one of us is very familiar with how things are run here," Christine continued. "I would dearly love to hear more about this amazing edifice and how it was created."

"Oh, I know everything there is to know about the Opera Garnier!" the little ballerina quickly volunteered. "I would be more than happy to educate you on its history."

"Marvelous!" Christine smiled in delight. "Might we impose on you to join my cousin and me for lunch tomorrow…perhaps at the little bistro right around the corner, the one with the ivy growing up the side?" Christine had often visited the restaurant after arriving in Paris, simply because it afforded her the best view of the opulent building she dreamed of one day performing at. She would sit there for hours, sipping on an inexpensive cup of tea and allow her mind to envision the thrill. Yet now she no longer had to imagine, for with Erik's help, her dreams had just come true.

"I know just the one. We are allowed two hours between rehearsals tomorrow, I will meet you there at half past eleven?" Meg suggested, her eyes never leaving Victor's.

"Yes, we will see you there," Christine agreed. "Yet I am afraid we must be going now, our carriage is waiting for us outside."

"Of course, do have a pleasant day and I look forward to speaking with you again tomorrow," Meg gave a shy curtsy before she hurried off, leaving poor Victor still speechless.

"My, my, Victor," Christine chuckled as she shook his arm gently in order to make sure he was still alive and breathing. "You sure know how to sweep a lady off her feet with your winsome words."

"Did…did you see how lovely she was, Christine?" he asked, still sounding a bit dazed.

"No, as a matter of fact, I did not," she replied, raising an eyebrow at his odd choice of words. "I will just have to take your word for it."

"Forgive me!" Victor begged, snapping out of his trance as he realized how foolish he had just sounded. "I did not mean to say…that is I meant no…oh, I am such a complete idiot!"

However, his apparent embarrassment only caused Christine to begin to chuckle.

"You most certainly are not an idiot and I am not the least bit offended, Monsieur," she assured him as she once more began to pull him in the direction they had been heading before Meg had stopped them. "I just hope you can manage more than a handful of words when you two have lunch tomorrow, otherwise it will be one quiet meal."

"When we_ two_ have lunch?" Victor asked, halting as he turned a questioning stare at her. "Will_ you_ not be there as well, Christine?"

"Oh, didn't you hear?" she asked in mock surprise. "My ankle took a turn for the worse and I will be forced to remain in bed all day tomorrow. Very tragic. I guess you will just have to meet her alone and offer my apologies, although, I am sure Mademoiselle Giry will understand and forgive my absence." She then gave a chuckle and a wide smile. "In fact I am certain she will not miss my company in the least."

Once more the poor man was struck dumb, allowing Christine to begin their progress towards the cab yet again. Christine laughed silently at her masterful plan the whole way back to where she knew Erik would be waiting.

.

.

Erik paced back and forth in the alleyway as he scanned the street anxiously for signs of Christine's arrival. His heart was nearly bursting with joy over her sensational audition and he could not wait to hear the news from her own lips so he could shower her with praise. When at last the cab pulled up and he saw Victor helping her out, Erik had to force himself to wait there and remain out of sight while his assistant brought his lady love to him. Once they had made their way down the alley, now hidden from the prying eyes of anyone passing by, Erik could stand it no longer.

"Christine!" he shouted as he stepped forward out of the shadows.

"Erik! Erik, I did it!" she cried, taking the final steps to him as he took hold of her hand. Now able to ascertain his location, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "I got in…I am in the festival!"

"I never doubted it for a moment!" he assured her. The euphoria he was feeling, not only from her success, but the sensation of her arms round him left him so elated that he lifted her up by the waist and spun her around like a silly schoolboy. He didn't even care that Victor's eyes had grown as large as saucers, having never seen such an exuberant display from him before. Christine just laughed and clung to his shoulders and let the wind fly though her hair as they continued to spin.

"Erik, put me down," she laughed. "You are going to make me dizzy." The truth was that even if he had not been twirling her about, she would still have felt the same lightheadedness just from being in his arms. For the more time she spent with Erik…the more she began to realize that she was developing feelings for him…and not ones rooted solely in gratitude.

Once her feet were firmly back on the ground Christine could feel herself blushing, and she found that she did not quite know what to say. She had never been at a loss for words when it came to speaking with Erik…but suddenly she was _seeing_ him in a whole new light. Perhaps it was the fact that she no longer felt like a broken little girl, depending on him to offer her guidance and a reason to live. For now she was a woman with hope, with prospects…_with a heart that suddenly yearned for more._

"We must return home at once and celebrate!" Erik announced, completely unaware of Christine's inner turmoil. "This calls for a bottle of my finest champagne!"

"That sounds lovely!" Christine agreed, thankful to have something else to focus on besides her new and perplexing feelings. Then, as if suddenly remembering the other man's presence, she turned to him with a smile. "Would you care to join us, Victor?"

Her invitation stunned both men, and while Victor's mouth had dropped open in shock, Erik's eyes narrowed in a threatening glare.

"No…thank you! I…I must be going," Victor stammered, fully aware that such a thing was completely out of the question. He already knew far too much about his mysterious employer for his own good, and he feared if he were also in possession of the location of his secret home…Erik might quickly view him as a liability and no longer a trusted assistant. It was best that some secrets remain hidden. "After all, I have a lunch appointment tomorrow that I need to prepare for." He said this last part with a nervous laugh, not sure exactly how he was going to manage to sit across from such a delicate flower as Meg and not come off sounding like a complete imbecile. But he was darn well going to do his best!

His assistant's cryptic words puzzled Erik and he eyed the man suspiciously, all prepared to interrogate him properly. However, when Christine reached up and took hold of his arm, all other thoughts but her flew from his mind.

With that, Victor tipped his hat to Erik and bid Christine farewell, heading back down the alleyway and instructing the still waiting cabbie to take him home.

Once the young man was out of sight, Erik leaned forward and scooped Christine up into his arms, amid a squeal of surprise by the startled girl.

"Erik! What are you doing?" she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he headed for the secret entrance to the tunnels. "My foot is no longer injured; there is no reason for you to carry me."

"Oh, but there is," he insisted with a jovial tone. "The tunnels are treacherous, you are unable to see the many traps I have set and I am exceedingly anxious to begin our celebration. So carrying you appears to be the most expedient way to get you home!"

"Well, far be it from me to delay the festivities!" Christine laughed kicking her feet just a bit as he skillfully transported her down the twists and turns of each tunnel with expertise.

.

.

They were still laughing and joking as they breached the large cavern that led to his hidden door, when Erik was pulled up short. For there, sitting on his doorstep, checking his golden pocket watch, was none other than Amir.

"Well, it is about time you two made it home," the Persian said with a wide smile, rising to his feet when he spotted them. "I have been waiting here an intolerably long time!"

"Why are you here at all?" Erik growled, slowly placing Christine back on her feet. Granted, they had returned a different way than the one that was known by the Daroga, but still, Erik had not expected to see his annoying face a second time that day. Especially if he had been reading Sorelli's expression accurately back at the opera house. "Don't you have more _important_ things to be doing than bothering us?"

"Bothering you?" Amir repeated in an almost hurt tone. "I only wished to congratulate Christine on her magnificent performance." At this he stepped forward and took her hand in his, kissing the back of it gallantly. "I made it a point to be present for your audition, my dear, and I must say I was not disappointed. Everyone there spoke highly about your voice, Christine, you truly earned your place in the upcoming festival."

"I thank you for your kind words, Monsieur," Christine said with a beaming smile. "I was so nervous at first, I thought I would faint dead away. But then…" she stopped there and let her words trail away. It would have sounded foolish to tell him she had heard Erik's voice in her ear, whispering the encouragement she had so desperately needed.

"But then what?" Amir probed, not noticing the slight blush that came to her cheeks.

"Then I…I…nothing, I am just being silly," she insisted, looking at the floor as if embarrassed by what she had intended to say.

The Persian might have been oblivious to her discomfort, but Erik was not, and he intended to rectify the situation the only way he knew how…get rid of Amir.

"As scintillating as this conversation has been," Erik began in a droll manner, "we have some celebrating to do," and before Amir could even open his mouth to invite himself to participate, Erik headed him off. "And no…you cannot join us!"

"Erik!" Christine chastised, squeezing his arm just a bit at his harsh words. "You are being rude."

The look on Erik's face at her scolding words caused Amir to burst out laughing, for the man truly appeared hurt by the reprimand. The Persian knew if he pushed the issue, he could indeed wrangle an invitation out of Christine at least, yet where would that get him? Stuck in Erik's house with daggers of death being aimed at him the whole time, making it impossible to enjoy himself thoroughly. So he did the sensible and kind thing, he bowed out gracefully.

"I thank you for your concideration, my dear," Amir assured her. "However, I left a very beautiful lady waiting with the promise that I would return promptly, and I would hate to delay much longer."

"Well then, far be it for us to stand in the way of amore," Christine laughed. "However, we do hope you will visit again soon. Isn't that right, Erik?" she added, looking up at him expectantly.

"Yes…of course," Erik was forced to answer, practically choking on each syllable. "You are always welcome, Daroga."

"Something tells me that is not quite the truth," Amir smirked. "However, I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless." He then bid them both farewell and made his way up the tunnels, whistling a merry tune as he went. His jovial attitude only added fuel to Erik's already burning ire.

"Erik, I know that you are only having a bit of sport with Monsieur Amir," Christine began once she was sure he was out of earshot. "Yet if you keep this up, sooner or later he will grow weary of it and stop coming around completely."

"Do you really think so?" Erik asked, doing nothing to hide the sound of hope in his voice.

"Oh, Erik, what am I to do with you?" Christine laughed, seeing that the situation was hopeless.

"Celebrate with me of course, just like we planned," he answered matter-of-factly, taking her by the arm and leading her into the house and towards the parlor. There he left her standing in the center of the room while he hurried to the kitchen where he had left the champagne chilling and grabbed two fluted glasses. Returning, Erik made Christine giggle as the cork exited the bottle with a loud pop and she could hear him pouring the bubbly liquid into a pair of crystal flutes. "To you and your greatly deserved success," he announced, handing her a glass.

"Erik, you had this all prepared in advance," she accused as she took a small sip. "What if I had failed? What if they had laughed me off the stage?"

_Then I would have killed them all_, Erik thought to himself – yet dared not announce his murderous contemplations out loud.

"That was not even a possibility," he told her instead. "You were sure to succeed; there was simply no question in my mind."

"Well, I thank you for your confidence, even if mine had been a bit lacking," Christine laughed, taking another drink, enjoying the taste very much. "You know what would go great with this?"

Erik could think of many things that would complement the beverage… a kiss from her was top of the list, as he watched her delicate lips tantalizingly caress the rim of the glass.

"No, Christine, I do not know. But if you tell me, I will fly to the moon to see that you get it," he offered, literally ready to do just that.

"Rose biscuits," she announced. "They taste marvelous with champagne. My mother taught me the recipe, for they were her favorites. Would you please help me make a batch, Erik?"

Yet the only answer Christine received was the sound of breaking glass as the champagne flute slipped from Erik's fingers and crashed to the floor.

* * *

**Oh dear...did Christine just let something slip? (and we don't mean Erik's drinking glass)**

**She did it, Christine got into the festival (did you ever have any doubt?)**

**So how did Erik handle her audition...he WAS very pleased, yes?**

**How about Victor and his date with Meg...courtesy of Christine's sly nature.**

**Amir almost bit the big one AGAIN!**

**Now what will Erik think about her mentioning Rose Biscuits?**

**IMPORTANT: Before you beg to use your free snippet card or your 'post bonus chapter now' card, please note that I already intend to post a bonus chapter on Saturday evening. Why? Because I am one busy girl this weekend and I might not be able to respond to all your wonderful reviews in a fashionable time, so I am giving you an extra chapter as an "I am sorry" offering. So it would be best not to waste your free cards and just wait the day to find out what will happen. OK? I promise the Saturday one will be well worth your wait!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Sorry all my responses were unusually short. I am stuck with using my Kindle for a bit and I have a hard time typing with only one finger. Please forgive and keep those wonderful reviews comming. I am loving them!**

**Guest reviews:**

**TheRebbs98: "A" big reveal is here at least...maybe even two!..Ha ha...Pirate Amir does love his hats and mermaids! Glad you liked it. I hope it will make you SQUEEEEE a lot and be just as excited.**

**Mystery: Maaaaaaybe...or something else big will happen. They will see each other again...promise. And you do amuse me with your "speed references". Ha ha**

**Guest: oh, your poor feels! I think they should get to baking!**

**PhantomChristine: hold that thought...And I figured you would try and spend it, that is WHY I stopped us. Trust me it will be spent soon. Ha ha**

**Guest: you called what? And read this chapter before you get too sure of yourself. Ha ha. No killing for Erik...Yes so proud. The manager remembered her name from the old list when she did not show up.**

**Cora: I am glad you are excited. Hope you still are at the end of this chapter. Ha ha.**

**MlleNikki: there is an advantage to waiting to read, right? ha ha Yes Raoul will make an appearance, and more so than he did in MBTM too. ha ha. Enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 29**

**Beneath the Mask**

* * *

"Erik! Are you all right?" Christine gasped as she jumped back at the sound of shattered glass.

Doing his best to compose himself after her unexpected mention of the rose biscuits, which had prompted an instant flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him, Erik cleared his throat and stooped to pick up the broken shards.

"Y-y-yes, Christine…I am…fine," he lied. For in truth his heart was now beating wildly and his hands were shaking so badly he felt he might accidently cut himself as he attempted to clean up his mess. "The glass was wet and…it slipped…that is all."

"I am terribly sorry," she consoled. "I wish I could offer my assistance, but I fear a blind girl and broken glass is a rather foolish combination." She did her best to keep her comments light, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly descended upon the room. Something had upset Erik - that was more than clear – but Christine had no idea what it could have been. His demeanor was much like the day she had asked about his appearance and he had tipped over the piano bench quite unexpectedly. Clumsiness and Erik were not two things that went hand in hand…so using her powers of deduction, Christine guessed that both times it had been something she had said or done. _But what?_

"Please, do not concern yourself," Erik instructed, standing up, the larger pieces now cradled carefully in his hand. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, knowing that he needed to regain his composure before Christine began to question his strange reaction to her words. It was silly, that even the mention of rose biscuits could still ignite such a reaction in him, stirring the cherished memories from his past that were so long buried. Yet those few months when Anna had been there caring for him were still the most treasured in his life…now rivaled only by the short amount of time Christine had touched his lonely existence. Still, she would not understand his reaction to her words unless explained and that was the last thing he wished to do. Erik needed to push these feelings down and do his best to cover over his unbecoming behavior. "Do not move, Christine, while I fetch a broom and dustpan. I will be right back."

.

.

In his absence, Christine took the time to analyze Erik and his…well…_oddities_? Granted he had explained his aversion to going outside by his skin condition, and at first it did seem plausible. And yet…had he not just been out with her in the alley? Or when he had gone above to see to his _investments_? Not to mention the fact that every time the subject of his medical situation came up in the presence of his Persian friend, the man had become uneasy and choked over his words. Christine might not be able to see…but she was not _that _blind! What was Erik hiding?

Sipping her drink, she began to wonder why he had been so upset when she had questioned his appearance that day, why he had literally stumbled backwards when she had attempted to reach out and touch his face. _His face_…Christine suddenly realized that she had never touched his face. She had felt his hands, once she had forced him to remove his irritating gloves, and she had embraced his torso several times, out of grief as well as joy. But in all her time here, she had never allowed her fingers to graze over his face, to attempt to feel how he might look.

Well, perhaps it was time she did!

Yet would asking for permission thwart any attempt in doing so? Would he pull away and forbid her the privilege? The saying, 'it is easier to ask for forgiveness than consent' sprang to her mind. Could she do such a thing? Should she allow her curiosity to overcome her sense of propriety and intrude on his personal privacy? Yet, before she could allow the feelings she had come to have for Erik grow within her heart - feelings that she could no longer deny were there - she_ had_ to know the truth. If he insisted on keeping something secret from her, it must be quite terrible indeed, for Erik was not the kind of man who would be upset by small and insignificant things. He had more than once proven himself brave and confident, coming to her rescue on multiple occasions. So why did he seem to shy away from this one particular subject? And what did rose biscuits have to do with anything?

.

.

"Here we go, my dear," Erik announced as he came back in the room, working swiftly to do away with any small bit of glass that might prove to be a hazard. "All taken care of. You are free to move around once more in safety."

"Always my hero," Christine giggled, downing the last of her delicious champagne. She heard him move to the other side of the room to dump the shards in the waste basket and as he did, she bolstered her courage. Riding high on the success of her audition, she found the courage to follow through with her plan to learn the truth. "Erik…may I ask a favor?"

"You may ask me for anything, Christine," he assured her, reaching out to take away her now empty glass and setting it down on a nearby table. "You know that."

"Would you…dance with me?" she finished, looking a bit shy by her proposal, yet inside she was a jangle of nerves.

"Dance?" Erik questioned, sounding as if he had never heard of the activity.

"Yes…dance," she smiled invitingly, holding out her hand towards the sound of his voice. "I do not wish for our celebration to end and I feel so happy that I would like to dance."

"Yet…if I am to be your…partner…who will provide the music?" Erik stammered, feeling the sweat bead up on the back of his neck. _She wished to dance with him?_ Inviting him to hold her in a rather intimate embrace as they glided across the floor? The idea was indeed tempting, yet…terrifying at the same time!

"I could hum, or sing," she suggested, laughing a bit at his feeble excuses, quite aware of the trepidation in his voice. "Or perhaps you have a music box that could provide us a tune?"

It was then that Erik remembered the music box he had taken from the store the night she had been attacked. He had been so distracted by the horrible events of that evening he had completely forgotten to give her the little gift he had purloined. He had hung up that particular cloak when they returned home and had not used it since, allowing the item to be easily forgotten.

"As a matter-of-fact, I just so happen to have one right here," Erik announced, walking to the peg on the wall and reaching into one of the many pockets this particular cloak housed. When he drew out the small mechanical device, something else slipped out as well, floating to the floor as it landed beside his shoe. Glancing down, Erik gave an involuntary gasp, followed by a curse under his breath.

_Damn!_ Christine's letter!

The very one he had pretended to post and had planned to read later before seeing that it was truly mailed off to her parents. He had completely forgotten about it! Weeks had gone by since it was meant to have been sent and he could only imagine how sick with worry her doting parental figures must be. Erik knew_ he_ would be, if forced to remain out of touch with his precious Christine for so long a time. He now felt like a complete heel!

"Erik…is something the matter?" Christine asked, obviously having heard his expressions of dismay.

"No…nothing is wrong," he lied, picking up the letter and shoving it into his vest pocket. _Well there was nothing that could be done about it now_, he thought to himself. He would have to deal with the situation as soon as possible, perhaps even enlisting the aid of that persistent Persian once more. Oh, how that galled him. "I found the music box however," he announced, hoping to shift her attention back to it and off of himself.

"Wonderful," she smiled, clapping her hands in glee. "Wind it up then and let's see how it sounds!"

Erik was still feeling very uneasy, both from her request to dance as well as his discovery of the forgotten letter, but Christine's enthusiasm was infectious and he couldn't help but be drawn to her. He turned the little key a number of times until the springs were wound tightly, before setting it down on a nearby table and joining her where she stood. Erik was still nervous, but he was willing to overcome any such feelings if it meant the pleasure of holding his amazing Christine.

"This tune is perfect for dancing," she assured him, reaching out and feeling her way as she pulled one of his limp arms up and placed it on her waist, while the other one she held in her hand. She could feel him tremble slightly at her touch and she found it ironic, and a bit alarming, that he caused the identical sensation in her. "Now, all we need to do is count off the steps. One, two, three – one, two, three, and so forth."

As she counted, Christine began to move to the music, amazed at how easily he followed her instructions and allowed his natural fluidity to rise to the fore. In no time at all they were turning around the room as if they had been born to dance as a pair. And as Christine leaned in and rested her cheek against his chest, she could almost believe they were.

"You are a wonderful dancer, Erik," she complimented, enjoying the feel of his strong but gentle hand as it slipped its way to the small of her back, now fully taking the lead in their rhythmic movements. Christine released a happy sigh as she let herself be mesmerized by the sensations he was invoking within her. She had never felt so safe, so content, than she did right then. She could imagine staying locked in his embrace for all eternity, never wishing for more than she had right at that moment. And yet…she _had_ to know the truth. Christine needed to understand what it was Erik was keeping from her.

_She simply had to._

Erik was floating in a fantasy world, one where he was able to keep this delicate creature with him always. He would adore her, worship her and care for her to the end of his days, there was no doubt in his mind over that. She had changed so many things in his life, giving him hope and more joy than he had ever thought possible. If he could in turn give Christine back even a portion of what she bestowed upon him…well he would consider his life blessed indeed. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to wander, thinking of all the things he could bestow upon her. Security, fame and her dream of performing on stage. It was true that she may never be able to act out an opera - her lack of sight being a serious deterrent from that - but she could most definitely perform! She would fill every seat in the house with eager patrons clamoring to hear her sing, to entrance them with aria after aria while she simply stood there and amazed. Yes, he would see Christine shine; he would ensure that she was a star.

Erik was so lost in his dreams of the future that he failed to pay attention to the present… and the fact that Christine's little hand had left his shoulder and crept up towards his masked face. By the time he felt her inquisitive fingers sliding up the side of his jaw and onto the soft white leather, it was far too late.

Erik froze for only a moment before he jerked from her grasp with such fervor one would think her touch had burned him. Christine had apparently not been prepared for such a visceral reaction, for as he ripped his body away, she stumbled backwards, grabbing at anything that might stop her fall. Unfortunately the only thing her fingers and been close to at the time was his mask and as she tumbled to the floor, her backside cushioned only slightly by the small area rug, the ties that held his shield in place gave way and the whole thing came with her. She gave a yelp of fear as she struck the floor, but that was nothing compared to the cry of sheer agony that emitted from Erik's lips.

"WHY?" he cried, covering his face with his hand as he stumbled backwards, bracing himself against the small sofa. "WHY, CHRISTINE? Could you not simply leave well enough alone? Why did you have to go and destroy_ everything_?" As he spoke, his grief and misery turned to rage and he unleashed his barely contained emotions on several pieces of furniture in the room. He felt exposed, hurt and worst of all…Erik felt betrayed! He knew it had been too good to last, that he had dared to fly too high and too close to the glorious heavens. And just like the fabled Icarus, he was now to face his doom as he came plummeting down to the cold, harsh reality of the earth. Christine was too good for him, he had never been worthy to touch such beauty and this fateful moment was the price to be paid for his ambitious dreams. Yet knowing it had been inevitable did very little to quell his grief or soothe his misery. It simply hurt too much.

"Erik…" Christine whispered, flinching at each crash and sound of breaking objects. She sat there on the floor, gripping the leather mask she had unintentionally ripped from his face, praying that he would calm down so that she could apologize. Yet as he raged on, she worried that she might have gone too far, that he might not be willing…or _able_ to forgive this transgression. Oh, why had she been so foolish? What had possessed her to concoct this deception in order to sate her damnable curiosity? How could she have treated Erik in this deplorable manner? She felt the tears begin to stream down her cheeks as she sat there, drawing in on herself as she gripped the mask in her regretful hands.

Erik's wrath continued on until he was exhausted and spent, ending with one last vase being thrown against the wall in a resounding crash. Left panting and numb, Erik bent over and supported himself with his hands on his thighs, gasping for air as he did his best to regain his senses. It took quite a few minutes, but as he salvaged what little composure he still possessed, Erik became aware of the sound of crying from behind him, a soft whimper accompanied by sniffles. After a moment he remembered he was not alone in the room…that Christine was also there, having been fully exposed to his deplorable temper and rage. With a heart now full of remorse, he slowly turned around, his hands once more instinctively going to cover his face, though he realized she was unable to see what he felt compelled to hide. Yet, when he caught sight of the terrified girl huddled on the floor he felt like the lowest form of life to have ever crawled upon the earth.

His mind instantly flashed back to his childhood, to the day Anna had given him the drawing paper and he had allowed his frustrations over his failed designs to get the better of him. He had frightened her back then as well, causing his nanny to fall to the floor and he couldn't help but now envision his dear Anna sitting there before him. Why had he been reminded of her so often since finding Christine? Why did Anna plague his mind so, when for years he had been able to push such pleasant, yet equally painful, memories out of his head? However, when he looked at the quivering girl on the floor, instead of Anna's gentle green eyes staring back, it was the unfocused brilliant blue of Christine's…and they were full of tears.

Instantly, Erik's anger left him and all that remained was regret. Regret for his actions, for his words and most of all for blaming Christine for what was quite obviously his own fault. If he had only been truthful…if he had not lied to her…then maybe, just maybe, everything would not now be destroyed. He took a tentative step closer but as his shoe made contact with a tossed aside book, causing it to skitter across the floor, he saw her jump and shrink back, making him hate himself even more. The woman he loved now feared him, and there was no way he could fault her for that.

"Oh…Christine," he moaned, sinking to the floor as he buried his head in his hands. "Erik is sorry…." he managed to get out between sobs. "So very sorry… please don't hate him for what he has done!" That was all he could manage before he allowed his grief to overcome him, unable to speak further due to the devastation raging inside.

Christine heard his plea and her heart broke even more to think that she had brought him to such a state…all to satisfy her own idiotic curiosity. It made her feel small, petty and so very cruel – and in truth that was more than likely how Erik saw her as well. She had destroyed all they had built in just one moment by her wrong decision.

She had to set things right!

Slowly, Christine made it to her knees and with the help of one searching outstretched hand, she crawled to where she could hear his muffled weeping, eager to offer any kind of comfort for her mistake. When her fingers came in contact with his quaking shoulder, she felt him stiffen up but at least he did not pull away. Scooting closer until she was kneeling directly beside him, Christine placed one arm across his back in a soothing manner and leaned her tear stained cheek against the side of his arm.

"Erik, please forgive me," she whispered in a beseeching tone. "I did not mean to...to…" she had to stop there since in truth she was not quite sure _what_ she had done. She now understood that he had been wearing a mask over his face and that the removal of it appeared to be what set him off, but she was still at a loss as to _why_. What had he been hiding? Was it his identity the mask shielded from view…or something else? "Please speak to me, Erik. Tell me what is going on. Why do you wear…_this_?" she held up the shaped piece of leather in her other hand, begging for understanding.

Her nearness was having a very calming effect on Erik, rubbing his back in a circular motion, once more very reminiscent of how Anna used to comfort him as a child. Lifting his head, Erik could now see the sincerity on Christine's face, the pleading look as she waited for him to explain himself…to tell her the truth. Even though it went against every fiber of his being, he knew she deserved nothing less than his full honesty. He had more than likely ruined everything already with his violent tirade; why not confess the rest of his sins as well?

Expelling a shaky breath, Erik shifted his body until he was facing her, still on his knees in a remorseful manner. Reaching out with trembling hands, he took the hated mask from her tiny fingers. He did not replace it though, choosing instead to bare his soul while uncovered and vulnerable. It was a small act of penance, but he needed to start somewhere.

"Christine," he began, searching desperately for the right words. "I…I have been untruthful with you. I have in fact…_lied_ to you. I do not live down here beneath the earth because of some aversion to the sun…I do so to avoid the stares, the ridicule and the…the cries of fear." He stopped there and looked away, shame filling his eyes in the form of tears.

"Erik, what do you mean?" Christine pressed, now reaching up with her hands in an offer of comfort. Yet before she could make contact, he dropped the mask and gripped both her wrists, holding them at bay. It was not hard enough to cause pain, just enough to halt her progress and allow him to retain his dignity for a few moments longer.

"Christine…I…I am hideous," he choked out at last. "I am a freak of nature and I…I hide my shame behind…a mask. Yet, even though you are blind, you still recieved a perfect look at my true nature - through my inexcusable temper. I am a monster, through and through and for that I…I beg your forgiveness."

"Erik, it is I who should be asking for _your_ pardon, not the other way around," Christine argued. "I should have respected your privacy, your _choice_ to reveal - or not reveal - any information you felt I did not need to know."

"But don't you see…you _deserved_ to know! You should be aware of the kind of hideous creature I am!" Erik moaned, pulling both her hands to his chest as he pressed them to his aching heart. "I deceived you into thinking I was a normal man, when in truth I am the farthest thing from it. I am a…beast…a living corpse!"

"That is not true…it can't be," she disputed. "How can you call yourself these things when you have been nothing but kind to me? You have saved my life three times since we met and that is something no monster or beast would have done. The _man_ I have come to know is nothing like what you are describing in the least."

"Yet you cannot _see _me, Christine!" Erik bemoaned adamantly, causing her to pull back slightly at his harsh tone. "You are blind! And for that reason alone I allowed myself to…to pretend. I lied because I dreamed if you could not see the abhorrent face I possess, you could imagine that I was handsome…or at the very least not as hideously grotesque as I truly am. But no more…the illusion is gone…and only the ugly truth remains."

"But, Erik…you _are_ handsome," Christine corrected. "You are handsome to me!"

Erik gave a bitter laugh before sobering.

"Not much of a compliment coming from a blind girl," he pointed out.

"I would still feel the same even if I could see as clear as day, Erik Trouville," she firmly insisted, a stern look crossing her face. "You claim to be ugly, that people do not accept you because of it, but I have had the privilege of getting to know you…_the real you_…without my eyes tainting the truth of who you are on the inside, where it counts. It does not matter to me what you look like, for outward appearances could never hide the true gentleman I see within." Christine pulled back and gave him a skeptical look. "Would you have treated _me_ otherwise if I had looked different?"

"Of course not!" Erik affirmed, and he knew he was speaking the honest truth. For while he was quite pleased with Christine's looks, he could not deny that it was her heart and her amazing spirit that had caused him to fall in love with her…not simply her pretty face.

"Then why do you wish to paint me so shallow as to think that I would treat _you_ so abominably?" Christine questioned. Her hands were still trapped between his own and she tugged at them gently, wishing for their freedom. "Allow me to _see_ you, Erik…let me look with my hands and not my eyes."

"NO!" he gasped, shaking his head in terror. "I have had more than my fill of hearing people scream in terror from merely catching a glimpse of my face. I will not have you subjected to the horror of actually touching such a disfigurement!"

"Erik, please," she begged. "How else can I convince you that it does not matter unless you allow me to see you the only way I am able?"

"I do not need convincing, Christine," he stated firmly. "It is an impossibility, thus there is no need to even attempt such a thing."

"You are being ridiculous!" Christine fumed, becoming irritated with his denial of her request.

"I assure you, my dear…I am not," Erik countered, his tone just as resolute. "You are not strong enough to face the terror of what I am forced to call a face."

"Wouldn't I be the one best suited to decide such things? I promise I am not some delicate flower!" She released a small huff when she heard him give a hum of disagreement. "Well… not anymore at least! And since you freely admit to lying to me all this time…of the two of us, don't you think _my_ word would be the one we should be trusting?" It was a low blow, she realized that, but she was prepared to fight dirty if it meant getting him to concede. As she waited for him to reply, the longer he stalled, the more confident of her victory she became. Regardless of what he felt, she knew Erik, and she understood his conscience would eventually force him to give in to her request. And she was right.

"Please, Christine, do not ask this of me," he begged. "You don't know what you are doing."

"Do you trust me, Erik?" she asked. "Do you trust that I would never betray your confidence again? I am not asking this out of morbid curiosity or to be cruel…I only want you to believe me, to understand that whatever you are, it is more than enough for me. I will not scream or run away, I promise. Please trust me."

Erik was stunned…had he not heard almost those exact same words once before? On the day he had willingly shown his face to his beloved nanny. Anna had not run away or screamed…_she_ had kept her word. Perhaps he could trust Christine to do the same. Was it possible for such a miracle to happen twice?

"I…I _do_ trust you, Christine," he sighed, his voice full of pain and fear. Yet his hands did indeed release hers, allowing them free rein, able to explore if she so desired.

Christine held perfectly still for a few moments, waiting to see if he would change his mind. When it did not appear that Erik would stop her, she allowed her hands to slide up his chest towards his face. He straightened and sucked in a deep breath the moment she touched him, his chin rising just a bit in an attempt to delay the inevitable, as her fingers crept closer and closer to their target. Up his neck they went and to his chin before coming in contact with his mangled face at last. He flinched as her thumb grazed his misshapen lips and she stilled her motion until he seemed to calm himself once more. Next she gently explored his cheeks and forehead, her brows furrowing as she mentally cataloged the oddly shaped topography of his face. She felt every bump, every dip and each patch of malformed skin he possessed. At last she brought her fingers back down to discover the absence of a fully formed nose, only a distorted bit of flesh housing mismatched nostrils.

"Do you still find me handsome, Christine?" he dared to ask, his voice now bitter and full of sarcasm. "You once asked why I remained a bachelor…well I think you finally have your answer."

"My good opinion of you has not changed, Erik," Christine assured him, allowing her hands to drop back to her lap, having _seen_ all she needed. "I promised I would not betray your trust, and I always keep my promises." Her concerned expression suddenly changed, a small grin creeping to her delicate lips. "And it is nice to see that you were truthful about something at least," she finished with a confident nod.

"What is that?" he asked, completely stunned that after touching him the way she had, that she was willing to stay in the same room as him…not to mention still being conscious.

"That you indeed do not have a mustache or a beard," she told him, her little grin morphing into a big smile. "I have never cared for a man with facial hair, so I am pleased to find you clean shaven."

Erik sat there and stared at the woman before him in complete awe. He did not know whether to laugh or cry, for here was his precious Christine, the only woman he had ever loved in this manner, smiling up at him after he had revealed to her his darkest secret. She had not fainted, she had not screamed…_she was smiling_. Relief flooded his body, washing away the tense fear and dread that had consumed him and as it did, he bent forward, taking her hands in his as he pressed the back of them to his forehead. The tears began to flow freely as he thanked her over and over again, accompanied by words of his unending gratitude and devotion. Christine had done the unbelievable…she had _accepted_ him.

"Shhhhh," she cooed, taking one of her hands from his grasp and bringing it up to stroke it through his hair as he continued to bow before her. "Don't cry, Erik. Everything will be all right now, nothing has changed."

Erik raised his head, looking at her with anxious eyes.

"You…you will still remain here…with me…even after learning the truth?" he asked, searching her face for answers.

"If you will still have me," she confirmed. "And as long as you are able to forgive me for unmasking you like I did. I truly am very sorry for that." She then smiled up at him. "Besides, I have grown rather attached to your little underground hideaway and…and where else would I ever find a better voice coach in all of Paris?"

Erik had no words to express his joy over her agreeing to stay, so instead of speaking he simply pulled her close in a grateful embrace, enjoying the idea that this perfect dream had not come to a dreadful conclusion after all. This was true happiness…_this_ was bliss.

They sat there on the floor for some time, neither one willing to end their precious moment, but when he heard a small yawn escape from Christine, he knew it was time to rise.

"I think you have had a very exhausting afternoon, my dear," Erik announced, standing up as he tied his mask back in place. Gone was the unsure man who had just bared his soul, and in his place stood the composed and confident Opera Ghost once more. "I would recommend you take a nap, Christine. I will attempt to salvage what I can from the disaster I have created in here and have dinner waiting on the table when you choose to rise."

"Are you sure?" Christine asked, doing her best to stifle another yawn, betraying just how exhausted she truly was.

"Quite sure," Erik insisted, helping Christine to her feet. "Besides, it was you who pointed out that broken glass and a blind person do not mix. And I assure you, Christine, I have broken more than a few items in my fit of rage…for which I continue to beg your forgiveness."

"How about we call it even and never speak of it again?" she offered with a hopeful smile.

"You are far too generous…yet, because I desire it so, I will take you up on your offer," he told her, guiding her through the mess he had made and directly to her bedroom door. "Now, get some rest. You will need it now that you are an upcoming opera star, and I intend for you to start work on your piece for the festival directly after dinner."

"What a slave driver you are!" Christine told him with a laugh. "Do I not even get one evening respite?"

"You know what they say, my dear," Erik said with a tisking sound. "There is no rest for the wicked."

Christine gave an exaggerated moan of complaint as she made her way into her room, yet the warm smile she wore never left her lips.

.

.

Erik waited outside until he was sure she had made it to the bed safely, before returning to the sitting room and surveying the chaos he had created with a sad shake of his head. He stooped down to pick up a few scattered books when he heard the crumple of paper near his ear. Looking down he saw the corner of Christine's letter sticking out of his vest pocket and suddenly all thoughts of cleaning the mess around him were quickly forgotten. Righting his favorite chair, he sat down and opened the envelope, eager to read the words Christine had written to her parents – ones that she had refused to allow him to see. He felt a twinge of regret at reading her personal mail, but now that it was in his hands, there was no turning back. Her penmanship was surprisingly legible for having been written without sight, and he congratulated himself on having come up with the idea on how to keep her sentences straight. Erik was also very pleased that Swedish was one of the many tongues he had chosen to study, being both fluent in speech as well as reading and writing, for that had been the language Christine had chosen to pen her letter. Sitting back, he allowed his eager eyes to begin to read…

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_Please forgive me for not writing sooner, but things have been rather strange here lately and time has slipped away from me. Do not worry though, I am perfectly well and enjoying my stay in Paris. It really is all you said it would be, Mother. However, I am afraid that our dreams of me singing on stage at the Opera Garnier have not come to fruition. I have since come to terms with my disappointment and moved on to seek other goals in life. I have not discovered what that might be just yet but I have confidence that I shall in time. _

Erik paused there as he was forced to remind himself that Christine had written this letter _before_ he had discovered her amazing voice and arranged for her to audition at the opera. At that point in time she had obviously figured any opportunity to do so had already passed her by. He wondered what her family would have thought of this news, had it actually reached them. Perhaps it was a good thing he had forgotten to mail the letter, since everything he had read thus far no longer applied.

_I am quite content with my living conditions and have made a few new friends during my stay. In fact there is one person in particular I hope to introduce to you someday soon. His name is Erik Trouville and he has become quite dear to me. He is an amazing musician and I am certain that you both will be as impressed with him as I am. He has been invaluable to me in my search for other employment and has made sure I am safe and taken care of while here in France. I hope you both will come to care for him as much as I have, for he is quite exceptional in every way._

Erik halted here and allowed his eager eyes to reread the paragraph a second time, shocked at how Christine had described him. He had become dear to her? She had called him exceptional and even went so far as to say she cared for him! Erik could feel tears pricking at his eyes as he stared at the physical evidence of his Christine's budding feelings for him. No one had forced her to write this and she had believed that it was something he would never have seen, so why would she have penned such words if she had not truly meant them? Erik was genuinely touched. He took a deep breath and continue reading.

_I wish I could tell you more, but since things are still very much in fluctuation, all I can do is assure you that I am happy, in good health and doing well. Please do not worry for me and I will write you again soon. I hope you both are well and that fall in Sweden has not been too harsh or cold, I know how father's bones ache when the snows arrive. I wish you good health and happiness._

_All my love,_

_Your devoted daughter, _

_Christine._

Erik read the letter two more times in full before he pressed it to his aching heart and shut his eyes. If he had not already been convinced of his love for Christine before this, it would have now been solidified in stone. She was a treasure, his muse and undeniably the only woman in the world for him. Erik only prayed that by exposing his lies to her, as well as his horrible face, he had not killed any tender emotions that might have been growing in her gentle heart…no matter how small or insignificant they might have been.

* * *

**Well, there you go. Erik has been unmasked!**

**how do you think it went?**

**Did she do the right thing?**

**were you happy to FINALLY have the letter read? I thought some of you were going to die from not knowing!**

**Was it what you thought she might have written?**


	30. Chapter 30

**Until my beloved desktop computer gets fixed, I am still working off of my phone and Kindle. So please accept my apology for short responses. I can't even type "FP33" without it trying to auto correct it! And typing with one finger is NO FUN!**

**Guest Reviews:**

**TheRebbs98:** Yes, I think HE is more blind than Christine, he just can't seem to see all the similarities and figure it out...but he will! Ummm, maybe a bit more than three or four, but you will like what I give you in the meantime. I do love getting tears...so thanks!

**MlleNikki:** I think everyone was wondering about the letter. ha ha. Erik better go find a stamp quick. ha ha Oh yes, Christine might not have admitted it yet, but I think Anna's little boy has for sure captured her little girl's heart.

**Guest:** He BETTER mail her letter or I will kick his little Phantom butt! And I too will join you in that happy dance...IF that is what happens...hee hee.

**Mystery:** Dance away, my dear, dance away! OH I got a few more surprises for ya! Ummm, yes, awkward is a good word for what his going to happen. ha ha. Erik does freak out rather quickly, does he not?

**Grandma Paula:** Glad you found it again and welcome aboard the reading train! Erik waves hello.

**E.P.:** Awww, it reminded you of little Erik? I will have to listen to it one day then.

**PhantomChristine:** She will have to tell them soon huh? Erik thinks so too. You are welcome for the bonus chapter, and you still have yours to spend now.

**.**

**ChristineDaae:** Not sure where you are in the story, so did you see my message to you back in chapter 25?

**.**

**Chapter 30**

**Sins of the Past**

* * *

Though Christine was bone weary and exhausted from her audition, as well as the confrontation she and Erik had just experienced, sleep did not come. Instead she allowed her mind to mull over the information she had just received and how such revelations now affected her. Erik _had_ lied to her…yet considering the circumstances she could not find it in her heart to be angry with him over it. It was obvious that he had suffered years of scorn from the fact that he looked different, forcing him to hide behind a mask and reside below the earth in order to find a measure of peace. For that alone, Christine felt only pity for him, and could easily forgive any lies he had felt required to tell.

Yet was it pity that caused her heart to beat faster when he was near? Could pity alone create that warm sensation in the pit of her stomach whenever he sang or spoke with her? It was certainly not any feelings of regret over his unfortunate appearance that now left her head spinning and a smile on her face as she thought of how he had held her so tightly only a few minutes ago. No. This was not pity, it was something else entirely…_but what?_

Now, with his confession, Christine had to think about how his appearance played into all this. It was certainly not something that could be ignored and she would need to take it into consideration as well. Yet in her mind…he was still the same Erik she had come to depend on and enjoyed talking with more than any other person she could think of. Yes, her parents were wonderful and she had no doubt they loved her unconditionally…but Erik was something entirely different. Christine seemed to thrive in his company and hung on his every word. She even liked it when they had their rather heated discussions, enjoying the sound of conviction in his voice when he stated his opinions - doing his utmost to convince her that _he_ was right. However, despite his continued insistence that he was correct in all maters musical, Erik was always willing to stop and honestly listen to her views as well, and that truly touched Christine's heart. Erik Trouville was fascinating, stubborn, engaging and altogether the most wonderful man she had ever known. And while she was not yet ready to define the scope of her feelings for him, she knew they _did_ exist…and she wanted more time to explore them further. Christine only hoped she had not ruined things with her little stunt and that there would be no awkwardness between them.

With a heavy sigh of indecision, Christine lay there thinking of nothing but Erik for the next few hours.

.

.

In the meantime, Erik did finish straightening up the parlor, throwing away a vast number of knick-knacks and broken furniture that had met their untimely demise at his hands. He would need to provide Victor with a list of items to refurnish the room, for he could not allow it to appear bare! He might live in a cave, but it certainly didn't need to look like one. When it was as neat and tidy as possible and dinner was just about complete, he quietly knocked at Christine's door, alerting her to its readiness.

Just like Christine, Erik too was nervous about how they might react to each other now that everything had been laid bare. He did his best to make light conversation as they ate, as did she, but in the end it was obvious that they were both tiptoeing around the subject that needed further airing out.

"Christine," Erik began with a heavy sigh, "you clearly have more questions about… my face. It is obviously not my favorite topic…but please, I want you to feel free to ask me anything. I will not lie to you again."

"Erik, I told you that what you look like does not matter to me…and I meant it," she countered.

"But you do have questions…do you not?" The evidence was written clearly across her face, even if she did not realize it herself.

"Well…I suppose…I was wondering what happened? How did you get this way?" she confessed at last, laying down her fork as she sat there with her hands folded neatly in her lap, ready to listen.

"Nothing _happened_…I was born this way. Much to my dear mother's horror." Erik spoke the last few words with a mixture of sarcasm and disgust, still finding it unpleasant to think of that woman.

"Your mother? You said that she has since died, correct?" Christine asked, trying to paint a mental picture of what he was telling her.

"I suppose I should amend that statement by saying I _assume_ that she is no longer amongst the living," Erik admitted. "She and I never had a very good relationship and I ran away from her when I was almost ten years old…I have not seen or heard from her since. So I am going to stick with the theory that she has since passed on."

"You ran away? Why? And at such a young age?" Christine could hardly conceive the idea of caring for oneself at only ten.

Erik paused here and thought for a moment on how to respond. He did not desire to garner sympathy from Christine over his less than stellar upbringing, yet neither did he wish to hide more than necessary from her either. If he had revealed his face to her and she was still agreeable to speak with him, then such kindness deserved the reward of honest answers. So with another cleansing breath, he continued.

"As I said…my mother and I did not get along. She detested me from the moment of my birth – and demonstrated that hate for the next ten years that followed. Her idea of caring for me consisted of locking me in my room and completely ignoring me unless I required nourishment…which to her infinite relief was not very often."

"She…she locked you in your room?" Christine was aghast! What kind of mother did such a thing? It was nearly impossible to even imagine her own loving mother raising her voice to her, let alone doing something as cruel as purposely imprisoning and ignoring her. "How could she treat you so cruelly?"

"I suppose she deemed keeping me alive the extent of her maternal responsibility," Erik said with an uncaring shrug of his shoulders.

"No wonder you ran away! To grow up that way, never knowing love as a child?" She could not even imagine such a pitiful existence.

"I…I wouldn't say I _never_ knew kindness or love. I did experience such things…once," he admitted, getting a lump in his throat at the mere thought of his Anna. "For a short time, my mother hired a woman to tend the house and it was her unfortunate job to take care of me. She was…well, a true angel of mercy. She treated me with compassion and for the first time in my young life, I understood that all people were not as cruel and hateful as the woman who birthed me."

"You said _for a short time_? What happened to her?" Christine did not know this woman, but she instantly felt a kinship to her, for no other reason than the fact that she had been able to see Erik the way she did now.

"She had been forced to leave," Erik responded. "She had no choice and I certainly did not wish for her to go, but there was nothing either one of us could do to prevent it. She had told me that she would come back, but as time went by and she did not return, I decided that she must have been unable to. For she would never have broken such a promise otherwise! I made good my escape one night and ran away, leaving my mother and all the bad memories behind in hopes of searching out my dear nanny. I regret to this day that I was unable to locate her or discover what became of her. I have come to fear that she must have met with an unfortunate end."

"I am so sorry, Erik," Christine said, blindly reaching out her hand across the table until it came in contact with his. She gave it a gentle squeeze, letting him know how she felt over his loss. "You must have loved her very much."

"Until you came along, Christine…she was the only person who has ever accepted me as I am…for what I look like. I…cared very deeply for her and I always will."

"What happened after you ran away? Where did you go…how did you survive?" she persisted, eager to hear his life story.

"The rest of my tale will not be a pleasant one, Christine, and I fear that you may not wish to hear it any more than I desire to tell it," he assured her, once more tensing up at her innocent questions.

"Erik…I want to know _everything_ about you," she insisted, again giving his hand a squeeze. "Everyone's life is full of both happy times and pain, but a burden shared is a lighter load. Share your burdens with me, Erik. Please?"

Erik wished he could deny her…but he could not. Christine appeared to be so sincere in her offer - and in truth, a part of him did wish to tell her his story. It would be painful, for both of them, but if he confessed all his sins to her now and she still wished to stay…wouldn't that prove that she was truly his perfect match? The only woman for him!

Yet should he dare?

"The tale is rather long and complicated, so perhaps it is best we retire to the parlor before I begin," he suggested, more as a tactic to stall for time than over true thoughts of comfort. Yet once they were seated on the sofa in the parlor, Erik had no choice but to begin his story. He watched Christine closely as he related to her how he had been captured by the gypsies and forced to perform in their traveling show for almost four years before he managed to escape. He did his best to gloss over the true horribleness of it all, yet he could tell that his experience was causing her gentle heart pain by the evidence of the tears that began to slide down her delicate cheeks.

Next he told her of his travels through Europe, describing how he would spend his days working at construction sites or any job he could find just to earn enough money to survive - before he would be forced to move on, due to fear and prejudice. When he came to his years in Persia, Erik stopped, doing all he could to bolster his courage to continue. Up until that point he had remained relatively innocent, not having committed any crime more heinous than theft…yet in Persia, well _that_ was another story.

"Please continue, Erik," she begged, taking his hands in hers and once more giving them an encouraging squeeze. "I promise that I will not judge you over things in your past. It is the man you are today that concerns me, and I am very impressed with _him_."

Her words were soothing, but as he stared down at her delicate fingers wrapped around his, that is what truly gave him the courage to go on. Her touch was causing that warm sensation to grow within him again and he was finding it very hard to concentrate on anything but the feel of her skin against his. However, realizing that it was now or never, Erik did his best to clear his mind and continue, knowing that Christine deserved to know everything. So with a heart full of regret he described his journey to Persia, his original intention being only to dazzle and amaze the royal court with his talents at magic and illusions. Yet, when he confessed to being drugged and forced into the life of an assassin, disposing of the Shah's enemies, both political and personal, Christine's hands moved to cover her mouth in shock and her brow furrowed with concern. Still Erik continued on. He omitted nothing, no sin left hidden, as he told of the years of bloodshed and murder, until the day he managed to break free with the aid of Amir. After that he described the wonderful palace he had built, using his mind to once more create and not simply to destroy. Until that too had almost led to his death, had it not been for the intervention of the Daroga.

"Amir helped you escape?" Christine questioned, since Erik had remained a bit vague on those details.

"Yes…he did," Erik was forced to admit. "And only _he_ could tell you why he did such a foolhardy thing, for I was never able to comprehend his insane reasoning."

"He did it because he _admires_ you, Erik," Christine told him in an exasperated tone, wiping away the tears that had stained her face. "I told you this before, and now your story only confirms it."

"If he admires me so, as you say, then why does he constantly think the worst of me and blame me for all sorts of dreadful crimes…even accusing me of several that pertain to you?" he huffed, still more than a little irked over Amir's assumption that he had kidnapped her in the first place.

"Well…you have to admit…you have had a bit of a _questionable_ past," she said, looking down at her hands as they once more captured his. She was now rubbing them gently, almost as if she were trying to wipe away the blood he had once shed with their aid. "Yet even though he may feel justified in jumping to such conclusions, I understand how painful it must be for you that he does so. Perhaps if you explain to him how you have changed, assure him that your past is just that…_the past._ Then perhaps he will come to see you as I do, as a good and decent man."

Erik was stunned by her words and the fact that regardless of what he had just told her, she was still willing to defend him. Yet even with all her healing words, all Erik could think about was the fact that Christine was_ still _touching him…that she had not pulled away or run out of the room in fear. Perhaps there was hope.

"I may not like it, but in truth I cannot fault him entirely. For he was an eyewitness to my crimes, he was there to see all the terrible things I did and it is a past that I will regret for the rest of my life," he assured her. "I never meant to take that violent path…yet it was thrust upon me. For after taking one look at my face, the Shah had deemed that the bringing of death was my true calling."

"Yet if he drugged you and kept you under his control, _you_ cannot be blamed for what took place!" Christine instantly came to his defense. "You are not a murderer in your heart, Erik, and no matter what you were forced to do, that is not who you are."

"But Christine…" Erik began, not wanting her to try and sugar coat his deplorable past, but she cut him off.

"No, Erik! You did not kill those three men who accosted me…did you?" she reminded him.

"Oh, but I wanted to!" he growled, his temper flaring at the mere thought of them and what they had done to her.

"Yet you didn't, you refrained and showed mercy," Christine pointed out. "If you were a true killer, you would have murdered them without thinking twice. Yet for as much as you felt they deserved further punishment, you spared them…you did not take their lives. I am proud of you for that, Erik, and you should be as well."

"Then…you do not hate me for what I have done…the sins I have committed?" he was once more shocked and in awe at Christine's forgiving spirit.

"I told you that I would not judge you for what was done in the past," she reminded him. "I can hear the remorse in your voice as you speak of what you did, so I know you regret everything that happened. You have changed, Erik. When left to your own devices, you have not killed, even when you could have. This tells me more about the man you are than anything you did under the control of the Shah of Persia. And from what I see, you are a man of the highest character."

Erik was so overcome by her words that he was unable to stop himself as he allowed his arms to encircle her small frame and pull her close, holding her tightly against him as if trying to prove she was real. For in his mind there was no way such an innocent and compassionate creature could truly exist…at least not for him. Yet here she was, the embodiment of all he desired, resting in his arms as if she belonged there.

"You are goodness and light, Christine," Erik barely choked out over the lump in his throat. "With your healing words, you have shown me something besides the darkness I always knew I was destined to reside in."

"You are the one who saved me first, Erik," Christine said, a smile touching her lips.

They sat there on the sofa for a long while, each of them slipping into a more comfortable position, with Erik leaning back against the cushions and Christine resting her head on his shoulder.

"I know we had talked about working on your performance for the festival tonight…but…perhaps we could simply sit here like this for a bit longer?" Erik asked after a while, wishing for nothing more than to hold her close like he was.

"I think that sounds lovely," she smiled, closing her eyes and snuggling up a bit closer. _Yes, there were most definitely feelings brewing inside her for this man,_ Christine thought to herself. Yet she was just far too tired to analyze them any more at that moment. Right now she was warm, content and oh, so comfortable, that soon she was sound asleep – knowing she would always be safe within Erik's arms.

Erik knew the moment Christine had succumbed to sleep, yet he did not move a muscle, allowing her to slumber on uninterrupted. It had been quite a long day, first with her audition, then with his unmasking and finally with how she coaxed him into relating to her his terrible past. And at each turn she had surprised him more and more with her talent, compassion and forgiveness. Perhaps Anna had been right when she told him that one day he would understand love.

Christine was _his_ love…and that was all he needed to know.

.

.

When the clock finally struck ten, Erik decided it was time to put Christine to bed, yet he hated to wake her. So as carefully as he could, he slipped his arms underneath her and carried her like a child to her room. After gently removing her shoes he tucked her in bed, hoping her gown would not prove too uncomfortable to sleep in, and then he silently slipped out. Erik had done a lot of thinking while he had sat there with her, the warmth of her body pressing against his had left him both exhilarated and calm at the same time. Yet one thing that kept returning to his mind had been the need to right the wrong he had created by not sending off her letter.

Going to his desk he sat down and carefully penned a new one, copying her writing so exactly that even her parents would never suspect. He omitted the parts about her giving up singing and simply wrote that she had yet to hear back from the Opera Garnier, for he was certain she would wish to write them a new letter soon announcing the news herself. He did however, happily leave in all the flattering words she had said about him, a smile spreading across his face as he wrote each one. When he was finished, he put it in the envelope and refolded her original letter carefully, intending to keep it amongst his most treasured possessions for the rest of his days.

After quickly peeking in on Christine, checking to make sure she was still fast asleep, Erik grabbed his cloak and hat and hurried out the door. He hated to leave her alone, but this could not wait and the only way it would get done in time was if he dealt with it personally.

.

.

Amir had just announced to Darius that he intended to retire for the evening, his manservant nodding in agreement as he went to close down the house for the night. Yet both men's plans were halted by the sound of an insistent pounding on the door, causing them to look at one another in confusion.

"Who would be so bold as to pay us a visit this late in the evening?" Amir asked, a bit affronted by such a rude guest. Yet he waved for Darius to get the door nonetheless.

The poor servant just about jumped out of his skin when he opened the door to find a tall, dark figure dressed all in black filling the opening.

"I am here to see the Daroga," Erik announced, stepping inside without being invited - not that a man the size of Darius could have stopped him, even if he had been brave enough to try.

"M-m-master?" Darius questioned, looking from the imposing figure to Amir and then back again.

"It…it is all right, Darius," Amir said, doing his best to sound calm…but failing miserably. "Please go put on a pot of tea…our guest must be chilled after his journey out in the cold night air." The last thing he wanted to do was play host to Erik at this hour, especially when his presence could only mean trouble for both of them. But he needed to get his young servant out of the room quickly before they spoke. Fearing if he overheard too much, Erik might start to see him as a liability…and good help was so hard to find these days. Once Darius had left the room, quite eagerly in fact, Amir turned a worried face to Erik. "What is wrong? Is it Christine? Has something happened to her?"

"Calm yourself, Persian," Erik said with an exasperated sigh. "Christine is safely back at home tucked within her bed. She is not even aware that I am gone."

"Then why are you here at my doorstep…and at this unholy hour?" Amir huffed, frustration showing now that his panic over Christine's safety was assuaged. "If you had something to say, could you not have done so when I was down visiting _you_ this afternoon?"

"I was unaware of my need for your services at the time," Erik said, removing his hat and cloak and laying them across the back of the small settee before sitting down in one fluid motion.

"You have need of me?" Amir asked in a shocked tone. "Well…that is a rarity, especially since you are willing to admit it. Please go on, I am all atwitter." He too took a seat in the chair facing where Erik now sat.

"It would appear that the letter Christine had meant to send to her parents some time ago was regrettably…well…delayed," Erik confessed, doing all he could to dance around the issue of who was at fault. If he could have found a way, he would have happily blamed it on the Persian himself!

"Delayed? How so?" Amir questioned, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"It was…misplaced. I only found it again today and I fear that if it is not sent off immediately, her family might begin to worry needlessly." Erik was now studying his gloved hands very carefully, not making eye contact with Amir.

"Misplaced? You mean you _forgot_ to post it?" he easily guessed, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Exactly how long has this letter been misplaced?"

"A week…perhaps two," came Erik's vague reply.

"Two weeks?" Amir almost shouted. "And all this time she believes it was mailed?"

"That would be correct," he nodded, his tone still not giving any hint of guilt, though his posture practically screamed it.

"Erik, you are unbelievable! Her parents must be sick with concern over her. Even if the telegram I sent made it there safely, not hearing more from her in all this time would certainly put them in a dither!" Amir was not pleased. "How could you let this happen?"

"I was a bit distracted!" Erik retorted bitterly. "Forgive me if I was more concerned with Christine's safety and mental health than focusing on the mailing of a letter. I can hardly be blamed for putting her welfare first, can I?"

"Where is the letter now?" the Daroga asked with a roll of his eyes. He knew he would never wrangle a confession of responsibility from Erik's lips, so he simply gave up.

"Here," he stated, reaching into his jacket and removing the letter from his breast pocket, handing it to the Persian.

"You know a letter will take at least a week, maybe more to get to Sweden. Leaving her family at close to a month with no word," Amir pointed out, turning the sealed envelope over in his hands. "The only other way to see it arrive sooner would be to hop a train and hand-deliver it personally." When he saw Erik's eyes light up at the idea he swiftly put an end to that line of thinking. "NO! I am not going to Sweden simply because you got distracted by a pretty face!"

"Then send Darius! I am sure he would love to travel," Erik suggested, not easily deterred.

The sound of dishes crashing to the floor within the kitchen told the men that their voices had been overheard, and the information being discussed was _not_ to Darius' liking.

"_No one_ is going to Sweden!" Amir informed Erik, in a voice loud enough so that he was sure his employee could easily have heard. "I will post this letter first thing in the morning and that is all I am willing to do."

"Very well," Erik said with a sigh of frustration. "If that is the best you can muster, I suppose I will have to be satisfied." He then stood up and re-donned his cloak and hat, heading for the door without another word.

"Oh, and you are welcome, by the way," Amir added, sarcasm and indignation dripping from his lips as he rose to follow him out. "Although I am not sure why I am always the one stuck with the job of cleaning up _your_ messes. Why do I even bother with you, Erik?"

"I have it on good authority that it is because you _admire_ me, my doddering Daroga," Erik informed him with a tip of his hat and a wicked grin.

"I…I…what? Who…I mean why…" Amir stuttered, hardly believing what he had just heard. "Where did you hear something so absurd as that?"

"Now, now," Erik warned, wagging his finger at the man in a disapproving fashion. "You would not dare to call Christine a liar would you? And I refuse to stand here a moment more and listen to her good name being slandered… especially by the likes of you, Daroga!" With that Erik turned and disappeared into the night, leaving a slack-jawed Persian staring into the darkness.

* * *

**And what do you think of them apples, Amir? ha ha.**

**Was he brave or stupid to tell her all about his past?**

**How do you think she took it?**

**Wasn't Erik cute when dancing around the reason the letter had not been posted?**

**You do to admire Erik, Amir! And don't you deny it. ha ha**


	31. Chapter 31

**My desktop will not be fixed till next week. The video/graphics card died. So sad. So short answers it will remain. :o(**

**Guest Reviews: **

**TheRebbs98****: You WILL get to see Anna's reaction when she finds out WHO has been taking care of her little girl. Promise. Ha ha, yes, I love your cat idea! But most calico cats are females...Erika?**

**Grandma Paula: Glad I could give you a nice late night/early morning surprise. Oh yes, Anna and Erik WILL see each other again. Promise.**

**Guest: Hold that happy dance...OK? And as for cliff hangers...you will have to let me know what you think at the end of this one.**

**Guest: well you can sit on the edge of your seat all you want, but it won't make the revelation come any faster. ha ha.**

**Mystery: KISS? You want them to kiss? Come on, they are not engaged yet! ha ha. And yes, that IS very fast. She is quick to forgive. and of course this will all end up happy! I only do happy endings.**

**Syrianlight: Erik is learning the benefits of telling the truth. She is his angel of Music and so much more. And you just hug them all you want. Erik would love it.**

**Guessst: You are forgiven. Amir will be sure to put extra postage on it so it won't get lost. ha ha**

**PhantomChristine: Erik was brave and spilled his guts. Ummmm, maybe a plot twist is coming...and maybe it isn't. I will never tell...muwaaahhhaaaahhh**

**.**

**.**

**And now...something you have all been waiting for...Enjoy!**

**.**

**Chapter 31**

**Only One Question Left**

* * *

Much to Erik's relief, things appeared to go back to normal the following morning. Christine appeared reconciled with the knowledge she had gained from him the night before and did not act afraid or uneasy around him at all. If anything, she seemed…_happy?_ Granted, Christine had always been the pleasant and content sort, but now Erik felt she smiled even more! Could the simple act of confessing the truth have changed things so much? In all honesty Erik had no idea, but he was not about to complain…not in the least.

Right after breakfast they began searching for the piece Christine would sing for the festival. Erik hunted through scores and scores of musical numbers from every opera he had ever heard of, and several he had not, but nothing seemed good enough.

"You must outshine every other singer there!" he insisted, discarding yet another piece that seemed woefully inadequate.

"But Erik…what if…what if I still cannot see by then?" she asked quietly, her eyes lowered to the floor. "Even if I do win…everything will have been for nothing."

"No…not _nothing_!" he argued, his voice turning velvety smooth as he spoke to her compassionately. "All Paris will know what a great singer you are, that you possess more talent in your little finger than the rest could ever hope for in their entire lives. That is certainly not _nothing_, Christine."

"But how will I know where to stand or where to go? I can't expect them to believe my ankle has yet to heal and I must rely on Victor to escort me again," she continued, voicing the fears that continued to plague her.

"You let me worry about that," he huffed, turning away as he continued to search for just the right aria. "I promise by the time the festival arrives, I will have the perfect solution." And while he said this with firm conviction and unwavering confidence, Erik still had no earthly idea on how to accomplish it. Yet, it would not do for Christine to be worrying about such things when he needed her to be focusing on her voice and nothing else.

Christine seemed comforted by his promise however and dropped the subject, much to Erik's relief. Yet by the time lunch rolled around, they still had not chosen a song! While they ate, Erik suddenly remembered the piece he had started composing that had originally been inspired by Christine herself. Granted it was not complete and he had yet to write words to accompany it, but he knew that it would not only astound the judges, it would also showcase Christine's amazing range and talents. The more he thought about it, the more his composition appeared to be the perfect solution and before he even finished his lunch, Erik was already humming the melody to himself, dreaming up words for each note. What had Anna once told him? _Music come from the heart_…and right now his heart was full of thoughts of Christine, lyrics and ideas just pouring out of his mind as his fingers itched to get them down on paper.

Soon he was at the piano, working diligently to complete his masterpiece, and like before, everything else was once more forgotten around him…even Christine. He had always been this way when composing, lost in his own little world and completely oblivious to his surroundings. Anna had often scolded him for ignoring his meals when he got this way and as he grew into adulthood, it appeared that nothing had changed. He imagined he had only been working for an hour, perhaps two, but when his fountain pen finally gave out, running empty of necessary ink and now in need of refilling, Erik was shocked to see that the rest of the day had slipped away from him, leaving the time well past midnight. His aching back and shoulders confirmed this as he sat up, feeling his muscles protest after being hunched over his piano and staff paper for hours on end. Looking up he scanned the room, noting the candles which had once been tall and luminous, were now either burning dangerously low or fully extinguished. He really needed to use the gas lamps he installed more often, yet he could never quite bring himself to fully let go of the warm and comforting glow of candle light.

In the back of his mind he vaguely recalled Christine's voice, speaking to him about…dinner? Or had he imagined it? However, when he spotted her small figure curled up on the sofa, a cozy blanket covering her as she slept, he got the sinking feeling that she had indeed attempted to rouse him from his creative haze…_and failed_. A tray with two plates sat on the small table in front of her; one was empty while the other still contained a full meal, confirming his suspicions that he had forced her to dine alone.

Erik felt terrible.

He had not meant to ignore her and obviously she had worked very hard on making him something to eat, only to be inexcusably brushed aside as he continued to work. This madness of his had to stop!

Rising to his feet he made his way to the sofa and knelt down beside her, allowing his fingertips to lightly brush at her silken cheek. He couldn't help but enjoy how she gave a sleep filled sigh as a smile graced her lips.

"Christine," he called softly. "Christine, wake up."

"Mmmmmm," she murmured as her eyes opened, and yet saw nothing. "Erik?"

"Yes, my dear, it is I," he assured her, dropping his hand down to take hers within his grasp. "Please forgive me for becoming so wrapped up in my work. I did not intend to ignore you or refuse your kind offering of dinner. I simply get carried away with my music at times and lose track of…well, everything else."

At his contrite confession, Christine gave a sleepy little laugh and sat up and released what Erik could only describe as an adorable yawn.

"I know you do, Erik," she told him, squeezing his hands gently. "And that is a trait I admire in you. Few people have your drive for excellence and I have never met anyone with such a strong sense of conviction. It is a pleasure to listen to you play and a privilege to simply be in your presence when you create. I did not mind at all."

"Well I do!" he insisted with a huff of embarrassment. "I never wish for you to feel ignored or insignificant, and I will endeavor to keep one foot in the here and now at all times." With this vow in place he stood up and pulled her to her feet. "It is very late, my dear. Is there anything you need, Christine? Anything I can get for you before I escort you to your room?"

"Erik, I am perfectly capable of getting things for myself," she gestured towards the plate of food she had placed on the little table earlier. "I cooked this all by myself, did I not?"

Erik took a good look at the tray and had to admit that if it were still warm, not ice cold due to his lack of attention, he would have been more than happy to have eaten it. Christine was indeed becoming very self-reliant…and for once the idea did not seem to upset him so much. Still, he could not allow her to become completely independent, for his poor heart was unable to comprehend the idea of her not needing him, even if only a little bit.

"I am very proud of you, my dear," he complimented as he began to walk her towards her room. "You are becoming very proficient in the kitchen it would seem. Perhaps you should open your own restaurant and not only cook but sing for your customers. Your establishment would be packed every night for both your culinary skills as well as your voice."

"Well, I don't know about that," she laughed, pausing at her door as she smiled up at him. "I may have been able to _make_ the dinner…but I am afraid if you look in the kitchen you will find I created quite a mess in doing so. I might have had a bit of a mishap with the flour and perhaps some molasses? It is hard to say what it was I spilt…but it _was_ rather sticky." By now she was sporting a rather sheepish look, causing Erik to burst forth with laughter.

"Do not worry yourself about it, Christine," he chuckled. "I will happily clean up any catastrophe that you left in your wake as a penance for failing to care for your needs. You go to sleep and I promise that I will be much more attentive tomorrow."

"Erik…you do not need to wait on me hand and foot! I am not some delicate princess, and you are _not _my servant," Christine argued once again, placing her hands on her hips as she did her best to glare at him sternly.

"Of course, Christine," Erik nodded in a placating manner. "Have a good rest."

And with a final huff and a bid goodnight, she disappeared into her room and shut the door, leaving Erik standing alone in the hall as he stared at the wooden barrier.

_Oh, but that is where you are wrong, Christine,_ he thought to himself. _You are my princess and if you but say the word, I would be as a dog at your feet, eager to obey you as my devoted mistress._

_._

_._

As the days followed, Erik indeed was ever conscious not to allow himself to slip back into a state of oblivion as he worked. The song was coming along beautifully and as Christine would sing the parts he had completed, Erik would constantly make adjustments, rendering it near perfect in every way. It was a song truly created just for her; his own personal gift of love. It was almost a shame that he had to share her with the rest of the world, but that had been the whole idea…had it not? Still, as Christine would open her lips in song, every note she sung felt as if it was meant only for him, and he treasured every one.

Time had once again slipped by – as it blissfully did in the presence of his Christine – and the day came when there was that annoying knock at his door once more.

_The Daroga!_

They had just returned to their lessons after taking afternoon tea and as much as Erik hated to be delayed in such matters, he also knew that Amir would not easily be dismissed and it was best to invite him in just to have it done with.

"Hello, Erik," the Persian said with a wide smile when the door was opened to him. "I trust you were expecting me…it has been a week since I have seen you, after all."

"Yes, Daroga, it would appear to be time for your infernal inspection once more." He gave an exasperated roll of his eyes as he allowed the man to enter. "You will be pleased to hear that in the last seven days I have not killed anyone or set fire to the city…not even once."

"Good to know, old boy," Amir chuckled, slapping him on the back good naturedly…though thinking better of it when he received a deadly stare from the masked man. He quickly sobered and changed the subject. "I have brought Christine a gift," he announced, holding up a package wrapped in brown paper and string.

"A gift?" Erik did not like the sound of that. What did the Daroga have up his sleeve?

"Yes, is she accepting visitors? I would love to see what she thinks of it," he asked hopefully, looking down the hallway in expectation.

"She is in the music room," Erik informed him, still eyeing him warily as he led the way.

"Amir!" Christine spoke up as he entered the room. "How good of you to call."

"How did you know it was me, Christine?" the Persian asked, a bit surprised by her declaration.

"Who the hell else would insist on pestering us when we have better things to do than entertain the likes of you?" Erik huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the man as if he were an idiot.

"I knew it was you by the smell of your cologne," Christine interjected, doing her best to smooth over Erik's irritated words. "I have come to associate that particular scent of pleasing spices with your wonderful visits. After all, a girl has to make use of the senses she has, correct?"

"Very astute of you, Christine," Amir complimented, giving Erik a gloating look and mouthing the words _'I smell nice'_ just to aggravate him further.

Erik was quite prepared to toss him out on his ear for his sauciness, but Christine's next words prevented him from doing so.

"I am very happy you came by, for I was hoping you might be willing to mail a letter for me when you have the time?" she asked politely.

"Of course, my dear, it would be no trouble at all," he chuckled. "You would be shocked at how often I find myself at the local post office these days."

"Marvelous…I will be right back," she exclaimed, counting her steps as she efficiently made her way out of the room and headed to her chambers.

While she was gone the two men remained silent, one with a smug smile on his face as the other simply glowered. When Christine returned she held an envelope in her hand, neatly addressed and firmly sealed.

Erik eyed the letter, not having been privy to the fact that she had been writing a new one and longed to reach out and snag the piece of mail before it was handed over. Yet, his shame over having forgotten to send off her last one held him back. They were her private words and while he had relished reading the last one she had meant to send, he would quell his desires to do so again, and let this one go on its merry way unopened.

"I truly appreciate your assistance in this, Monsieur Amir," she smiled.

"It is my pleasure," he assured her. "And I will see that it gets sent out promptly." He just couldn't help getting in one last dig at Erik's expense, knowing the masked man could say nothing in return without alerting Christine to his previous mistake. "Oh, and I brought you something I hope you will enjoy, my dear." Amir tucked the letter into his pocket and reached out to place the package in her eager hands.

"For me?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with anticipation. "What is it?"

"You will have to open it and find out," Amir laughed, watching anxiously as she felt her way to a small chair and sat down, pulling at the string and ripping back the paper. When her hands came in contact with the contents, her face took on a look of confusion.

"A book?" she questioned, turning it over several times as she glanced in his direction, as if asking for an explanation.

Erik was all prepared to deliver a slap to the Persian's head for such a thoughtless gift when Amir urged her to examine it further.

"Look inside…I mean, _feel_ inside the book," he instructed.

Doing so Christine touched what appeared to be raised bumps covering each page she came to, yet she still had no idea what they were for.

"It is a book written in what they call Braille writing," Amir told her as he came closer and knelt down beside her, reaching out and guiding her fingers across the elevated bits of paper. "The system was invented by a man named Louis Braille and it allows the blind to read stories without having to see the words. Each sequence of bumps represents a letter, so in essence, your fingers serve as your eyes…allowing you to read."

She turned her attention back to the book and slowly let her hands feel their way over the raised surface once more, her expression still one of confusion.

"But…but I do not know the code," Christine pointed out. "How can I decipher what each one means if I am not familiar with it?"

"In the front of the book it has a key," the Persian explained. "It is written both in Braille and in French, so I am sure with Erik's guidance, you will be able to understand it in no time."

"Thank you very much for such a thoughtful present, Monsieur," she told him, placing her hand on his arm in a gesture of appreciation. "I will do my best to study this well and not disappoint you."

Amir was rather pleased with his gift and so excited about it himself that he failed to notice the slight tremor in Christine's hand or the fact that her words of gratitude were slightly hollow…_but Erik missed nothing._

"Yes, it was very considerate of you, Daroga," Erik nodded, stepping over and taking the man by the arm as he pulled him to his feet. "Perhaps you can now be equally thoughtful by taking your leave. We have much practicing to do and your presence has already proven a distraction." Once more Amir was forced to bid Christine farewell over his shoulder as he was escorted out of the room and towards the door at a swift speed.

"Already tossing me out and without even offering a hot beverage to warm me on my journey through those cold tunnels?" he asked, apparently not surprised by Erik's none too gentle urging for him to depart. "You know, at least I was kind enough to serve you tea when you came calling, and at such a deplorable hour too, I might add."

"No, Daroga, you _offered_ me tea…you, however, failed to _deliver_ it. If I recall, your man, Darius, dropped it in the kitchen before it could ever make its way out to me," Erik was quick to point out. "Thus the tea was never served and I am not obligated to offer any in reciprocity."

Amir's eyes narrowed in contempt as he contemplated the smug man's words. Yet finding no way to refute Erik's claim, he simply gave a huff of defeat and left the house mumbling something about tea, deplorable manners and dying of thirst under his breath as he went.

Erik might have stayed there longer just to observe the man's frustration as he continued towards the tunnels, but he was much more concerned with Christine and the strange way she had reacted to Amir's gift. While he was certain the Persian did not detect her unsettling response to it, Erik knew _something_ was not right. So he quickly shut the door and hurried back to the music room, only to find his usually jovial student sitting there with the book still in her hand, not smiling or moving in any way.

"Christine?" he questioned, as he now came to kneel beside her, lifting her chin a bit with his finger so he could see her face. It did not shock him to find tears in her eyes, but the sight of them did upset him. _Damn that Daroga! What had he done?_

"It…it is true then?" she asked with a bit of a sniffle. "There is no hope for me at all…is there?"

"What are you talking about?" Erik asked, doing his best to understand what she meant.

"I am blind, Erik! BLIND!" she wailed, taking the book and shoving it away from her as if it were poison. She quickly stood up, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand and smoothing down her skirt as she tried to appear in control. "There is no way to deny it any longer…my sight is never going to return and I simply need to accept that. The fact that I am now in need of special books only confirms this. There is no hope."

"Christine, please listen…" Erik began, standing up as he tried his best to comfort her, but she shrugged his hand off her shoulder and stepped away from him.

"No, Erik, I tried to convince myself it was not real…that I would wake up one day and miraculously be able to see again…but…but now…now I can't pretend any longer. I can't see and I never will again. NEVER! Please…I…I just need to be alone right now," she told him, feeling her way around the chair she had been sitting in as she made for the doorway. "Just let me be...allow me time to think." And before he could further protest she had fled the room, as quickly as her unsteady legs could carry her.

Erik was now left alone, wondering where their pleasant day had gone. Part of him wanted to chase after that thoughtless Persian and throttle him for upsetting Christine like this – yet the other half of him had to admit the man had not truly meant any harm. In fact, if pressed, Erik had thought the book was a rather splendid gift. And before he had seen Christine's adverse reaction to it, he had found himself looking forward to learning this new language and spending time teaching it to her. It would have made for many lovely evenings by the fire, giving him plenty of reasons to share in innocent touches of their hands. Yet as he looked down at the discarded tome on the floor, he saw all those dreams go up in smoke.

_Damn_.

.

.

Erik did his best to do as Christine asked, to give her time alone, but it was one of the hardest things he had ever faced. He missed her! He also longed to offer her comfort, desperately wanting to ease the pain she was suffering over this. He still did not know what to say, but his arms ached to hold her and stroke her hair, doing all he could to stem the flow of tears he could only imagine she was now shedding. And even though she was only a few doors away, simply the idea that he was being forced to stay away made it almost unbearable. He tried to remain busy but at every noise, Erik would jump up and rush to see if she were emerging at last. Only to be disappointed when it turned out to be the sound of the clock or perhaps Christine shutting the door to the lavatory within her room. In the end, Erik positioned himself in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his eyes glued on her door, just waiting for her to come out.

When he could take it no more, he approached and knocked quietly. When no answer came he tried again, this time accompanied by a gentle call.

"Christine?" Yet when still no response was heard he became concerned and silently opened the door himself, peeking inside to assure that she had not come to harm. He spied her immediately, sitting at her little dressing table, yet she seemed to be in some kind of daze, acting as if she didn't even know he was there. Stepping inside he watched her for a while, trying to decide how best to address her, wishing he knew what to say to ease her fears. However, when he saw her little hands drift towards the back of the table, feeling their way up until both her palms rested on the mirror, he became concerned. Not so much by her actions but because of the look that suddenly crossed her face. It was one of utter despair and rage…a look Erik understood well. Yet he was not prepared for what happened next, for with a cry of grief she balled one of her hands into a fist and pulled back, lashing out and striking at the mirror with such force that it shattered.

"CHRISTINE, NO!" Erik was at her side within seconds, grabbing at her frantic wrists as he jerked her away from the now fractured glass. The small cuts she had incurred on the outside of her right hand were already dripping blood onto the desk. When she further struggled with him, fighting as if she wished to continue her damaging assault, he spun her around in her chair, still clutching her hands out before him. "Christine, stop this at once!" he ordered, attempting to sound firm, but it mostly came out panicked.

As he stared at the shattered glass and her lacerated skin, he was reminded of his own history with mirrors and how he had learned to hate them at an early age as well. Yet Christine's distaste for them stemmed from the fact that she could _not _see what they reflected, while he abhorred them for what they did show. What a strange pair they made…very strange indeed.

"Leave me be, Erik," she begged lost in a sea of tears and anguish. "You don't understand…you don't know how I feel!"

"Then tell me!" he begged, yanking off his cravat and wrapping it loosely around her wounds, doing his best to keep them from dripping onto her dress. "Tell me, and then I will know how to help you."

"Don't you see…you _can't_ help me, Erik! No one can help with this!" she continued to sob. "Do you have any idea how it feels to be trapped in this prison of darkness? Unable to go where I want or do what I wish, knowing I will forever more be looked down upon by society as useless…_damaged?"_

Erik was quiet for a moment, doing all he could to not become upset by her thoughtless words. Did _he_ understand how it felt to live in darkness? Was she seriously asking _him_ that question?

"No, Christine…I have no idea how it must feel to always live in shadows or to be considered a social pariah amongst a world of _normal_ people," he answered sarcastically, resentment etched in every syllable.

His words and tone caused Christine to sit up straight as she took in a gasp of air. Her eyes were now wide and her mouth fell open in shock as she realized what she had said and how it must have truly hurt him.

"Oh, Erik! I am so sorry…I didn't mean to imply that…I…I was not thinking!" Her tears began anew but this time from shame instead of her own grief. "I didn't mean to insult you or suggest that my situation was more dire…please forgive me."

Erik could hear the sincerity in her words and he instantly calmed, giving a heavy sigh as he bowed his head.

"No, my dear, you have every right to be distraught and it was wrong of me to take offense," he told her. "This is no laughing matter and you must release your anger and frustration somehow…yet, perhaps not in a way that causes damage to your delicate little hand?" She had quieted a bit by then and Erik felt safe to leave her to get some medical supplies from the lavatory, returning quickly with them as well as a basin and several pieces of linen. Her tears had now dried to only an occasional sniffle as she allowed him to unwrap her hand and examine it for any residual pieces of glass. Once he was certain none remained he placed the basin on the desk and guided her poor hand into the water, watching as it quickly dyed the clear liquid red.

"I am so ashamed, Erik…truly I am," she moaned as he gently began to dab at her wounds. "I was feeling sorry for myself and being very unreasonable. Yet, all my life I have been sheltered and coddled by my parents, working towards the one goal I believed could gain me that sense of freedom I always longed for. To sing on stage…to show everyone the real me and realize my own self-worth. But with the loss of my sight, the chance to rule my own destiny was ripped from me and now I am condemned to be a burden on society…or at the very least my parents. Do you know how humiliating it will be to return to our little town in Sweden, helpless and defeated? I left with such dreams…only to return in shame and disgrace."

"No one will think any less of you, Christine, whether you return to your home or remain here in Paris," he insisted as he began to wrap her hand in the strips of gauze. They were minor cuts that would quickly heal, but he dared not allow them to become infected by neglect. "If these people love you, they will understand and they will help you. If they do not, then to hell with them! They never deserved you in the first place!"

"What if I do not want help? What if I do not wish for anyone's pity?" she questioned, doing her best to remain still as he worked. "I want to be the one to take care of others, Erik. I want a life where I am needed…where I can give back. Yet who would want me now? No man would wish to be saddled with a poor, blind girl for a bride. One who can barely cook, who can't clean or care for him and his children the way a wife is meant to. Who would ever desire to marry me now?" With that, she turned her head away and shut her eyes against the pain.

Erik could stand it no more, the look of sadness, the tears and the catch in her voice had been his undoing and without any thought to what he was saying he blurted out the only thing he could think of.

"Marry _me_, Christine!" he all but begged. "Take me as your husband and I swear that you will want for nothing. I will take care of you and cherish you for the rest of my days. Blind or fully able to see, it does not matter to me in the least. I…I will happily take you just as you are."

The silence that followed his declaration was so loud it was deafening, causing Erik to hold his breath for fear even an exhale would shatter everything to pieces.

"You…you want to…to marry me?" Christine at last was able to ask in a quiet and disbelieving voice. "You are asking me…to be your…_wife_?"

The look on her face and the tone she used caused doubt and shame to flood in on Erik and he quickly regretted every last word. Of course she would not want to do such a thing! The poor girl was already distraught over the idea of never regaining her sight; must he now compound her fears by forcing such an offer upon her as well? Erik was a fool!

"Forget I said anything!" he all but shouted as he dropped her now bandaged hand and stood up, backing away from her. "Pretend I never asked…it was unfair of me to do so. I am sorry…just…forget everything!" And before she could utter one word, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

.

.

Christine was left in shock, not only by his hasty exit but by his withdrawal of the offer he had just made. _He wished to marry her?_ Could it be true? Christine knew he had grown fond of her, his actions and words left little doubt of that, yet could his feelings have developed in such intensity that they had turned to love?

But wait…Erik had never claimed to _love_ her…only that he wished to marry her. Yet didn't those two usually go hand in hand? Still, he might have simply spoken the words out of pity, wishing to say anything that might allay her fears of a life lived alone. Would he have made such an offer only to be kind? Her poor battered heart prayed the answer was no. Yet, what if he _did_ love her? What if his proposal had been genuine and sincere, spoken from his heart out of a true desire to join with her in matrimony and share his life with her? Did his feelings truly run that deep? Yet, a better question was…_did hers?_

Christine had never been in love before, never having allowed herself to become that attached to any one boy from the village she had grown up in. She had been raised with loftier goals than a convenient marriage and expected domesticity, she had wanted to sing in Paris. Well, now that dream had been placed within her reach once again and all because of Erik! He had not only saved her after the barge accident, but he had cared for her and brought her back from the brink of despair and suicide. He had then rescued her from those terrible men and helped train her voice, raising it to new heights so that she had succeeded in securing a spot in the upcoming festival. She was still not sure how that would all work out with her blindness, but she trusted Erik when he had told her he would take care of that. For Christine had come to realize that with Erik…_nothing_ was impossible. Around him, impossibility simply did not exist.

So was it now such a stretch to believe that she could have true feelings for _him_? That her thoughts of gratitude and amazement had somehow slowly turned to those of…_love_? Did she love Erik? And if she did…had the truth she recently learned about his face and his past changed any of that? They were not just something to brush aside, for they had the potential to alter any future they would presume to have. Living underground had certainly not been Erik's first choice or something he had decided to do upon a whim. His appearance had driven him down below, that and the intolerant opinion and scorn of the world. Could she offer her love to a man who could never walk above on the streets with her and not be stared at? Would he even _want_ to try? She would be giving up so much if she were to accept Erik's proposal…_could she do it?_

Yet, the feeling of dread that suddenly washed over her at the thought of leaving…of never being with Erik again, was too painful to even consider. She had once asked him about love - citing that if _true love_ existed, it would be all consuming and one should be willing to give up anything simply to be in that person's arms. Well...was this true love? Was she willing to give up anything just for the chance to be with Erik? In her current state of blindness his looks meant little to nothing and if she could not admire the view as she walked above in the city, what good was it to her? For all intents and purposes, theirs was a match made in heaven…and yet…she knew that even if Erik felt the need for this existence, _he desired more_. What was it he said…_that he had lied to her in hopes that she would think of him as a normal man?_ Every one of his songs spoke of beauty and emotions he apparently desired, yet never dreamed he could attain. These were things that everyone around him seemed to possess, but never Erik. Those were not the actions of a man who was content with his lonely existence. Erik deserved more…and Christine_ wanted_ to give it to him! She wanted to make him happy, just like he made her so deliriously happy every moment she was with him. This thought caused her sit up straight, all the blood draining from her face as the realization hit her.

She _did_ love Erik!

She _loved_ him! And his face, his past or where he chose to call home did not matter to her in the least! Christine knew deep in her heart that she wanted nothing more than to become his wife and share his days, as well as his nights, in wedded bliss. She wanted to marry Erik Trouville because she was in love with him and for no other reason than that!

Now…if only _he_ wanted her for the same reason!

.

.

Erik sat in the parlor on the edge of his chair, his head buried in his hands as he bemoaned his foolhardy actions. Why had he allowed himself to say such things? Christine must think terribly of him now and she would hate him and wish to leave. He had ruined everything by opening his big mouth and revealing the desires he had never meant for her to know. He would have been happy, perfectly so, if she had only consented to staying with him as a friend. In all his wildest dreams he had never dared hope for anything more, and when he had it all within his grasp, he had to go and throw it away. How could he ever face her again? What would he even say? He prayed that she would remain in her room long enough for him to regain his composure and come up with some plausible excuse for his apparent insanity. However, he knew that wish had not been granted when he heard her soft voice call from the doorway.

"Erik?"

Leaping to his feet he did his best to quell the panic inside of him as he straightened his vest and smoothed back his disheveled hair.

"Christine…I…I didn't hear you come in." Although it was the truth, it was a rather silly thing to say, having nothing to do with anything pertinent to the situation. There was not much he _could_ say however, having already more than put his foot in it by his hasty proposal of marriage. All he could do now was attempt to defray the damage. "I…I…hope you do not think me brash or foolhardy over what I said…I didn't mean to upset you…I was just…just…"

"Yes." Christine's voice broke in, silencing him with just the one word.

"Pardon?" Erik asked, dumbfounded by what she had just said and now not quite sure what she meant. _Yes,_ she thought he was foolhardy? Or dare he even believe the _yes_ meant what he dreamed it might?

"Yes, Erik…I will marry you," she affirmed, a smile creeping across her lips.

"You…you will?" Erik was beginning to feel a bit light headed and he reached out to brace himself against the arm of his chair. "You will marry…_me_?"

"If your offer still stands," she told him, suddenly becoming nervous that perhaps he still wished to rescind the proposal. "Unless you no longer want to?" Her last words came out in a quiet whisper as her head dropped and she stared at the floor.

"NO! I _do_ still wish it…more than anything!" Erik almost shouted, afraid for her to think otherwise for even a moment. "But…_why_, Christine?" That was the part that had him completely stumped. "Why on earth would you agree to such a thing?"

"I…I would like to marry you," she began, now feeling rather shy herself and for once she was grateful for her blindness so that she did not have to look him in the eye as she made her confession, "not because I fear I will never receive any other offers…and not because I am frightened or scared, for at this moment I have never felt more brave or sure about anything in all my life. I want to become your wife because…because over the past month and a half I have grown to _love_ you very much, Erik Trouville. And it is out of love that I now accept your proposal to make me your wife."

Erik was so stunned that someone could have knocked him over with a feather. Christine…_loved_ him? He had to be dreaming and for the first time in his life he wished that the Daroga was there just to confirm that he was truly hearing things correctly. This couldn't be real!

"You love me?" Erik's mouth was now so dry he could hardly speak, yet he had to hear with his own ears once more before he could begin to believe it.

"Yes…I do," she then looked at him hesitantly. "Do…do you not feel the same? Do you not love me? Was your proposal offered out of pity and compassion only?"

The slight crack in her voice and the look of fear on her face snapped Erik out of his daze and in the blink of an eye he was down on one knee before her, gently taking her undamaged left hand in his as he placed it upon his rapidly beating heart.

"No, Christine! How could you think such a thing?" he beseeched. "I love you more truly than I ever knew was possible. You have touched my heart and soul more deeply than anyone on this earth. The feelings I have for you are so strong I hardly think one can call it love, since it is a far too small and insignificant word to describe the depth of my emotions for you!"

His words caused her smile to return and as he looked up into her eyes he could clearly see that hers mirrored his own in joy and happiness.

"Then…we _will_ be married?" she asked, needing one last confirmation.

"Yes. Yes we will," he nodded, still somewhat in shock. Marriage…_a wife!_ Someone who would be bound to him throughout life, someone to share everything with…and that person was to be Christine! He then looked at her dainty hand that rested in his now shaking ones and he frowned. "I wish I had a glorious ring to offer you as proof of my commitment, yet I fear this has all taken me quite by surprise. It would be my desire to present you with one of gold and precious gems, something befitting one as lovely as you."

"Oh, Erik," Christine said with a laugh that Erik found so precious. "I would think by now you might realize that I am not the type of girl who is impressed with shiny objects or sparkly things. How would I ever fully enjoy them without the use of my eyes? I would much rather hear your words of devotion than hold any piece of jewelry I could not see."

"Yet you deserve only the best!" Erik insisted, not to be deterred. "A ring that shows my love for you. One you can show off with pride…for I fear you will not be able to do the same with your husband."

"Erik Trouville…I will not have you speaking in such a disparaging way about the man I love!" she scolded, pulling on his hands until he rose to his feet before her. "I love you for everything that you are and I will never suffer to hear another word about it…do you understand?"

Erik's smile was genuine, yet he knew she could not see it, so he cleared his throat and tried his best to sound stern.

"So, I am to have a domineering and overbearing wife, am I?" he joked. "I suppose I shall have to get used to it then…for I would not change a single thing about you for all the stars in the heavens." He then pulled his hands free from hers and removed the small pinkie ring he wore on his right hand. It was nothing overly flashy, just a small gold band with a shiny black stone he had acquired in Persia. He was not much for jewelry, other than the occasional cravat pin or pair of cufflinks, but the ring had caught his eye and he had liked the look of it. He had always seen it as the one thing of beauty he had taken out of the darkness during his time in Persia. It was now only fitting that he give it to the girl who had brought pure light back into his life. "Until I do find you a ring with a stone as blue as your eyes surrounded by diamonds that sparkle like your smile, I hope you will accept this as a sign of my commitment and intentions." And with no resistance from Christine, he slipped it gently onto her left hand, amazed that it appeared to be a perfect fit.

"Then…we are officially engaged?" Christine gasped, reaching out to feel the ring on her finger while she turned her face up toward her husband to be.

"I…I believe we are," he agreed. "Unless there is some other custom or tradition I am missing. I fear I am a bit unschooled in the art of proposals."

"Well," Christine began, furrowing her brow as if she were deep in thought. "I have heard that once a couple is betrothed…they…umm…they often find pleasure in sealing the bargain with…a kiss?"

Would this day's surprises and wonderments never end?

"A…kiss?" Erik choked out, hardly able to say the word without losing all the air in his lungs. "Christine…I …I have never…"

"Never kissed a woman?" she finished for him. "I have never kissed a man either…other than my father, but I don't think that really counts in this situation," Christine admitted with a shy smile. "However, I am willing to try…if you are?"

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to speak, but no words would come. To have a kiss freely given to him by Christine would be a dream come true, one he never thought to achieve. Anna had kissed his forehead, his cheek and the top of his head several times…but never, not once in all his life, had any woman dared bestow one upon his deformed lips. To say he was nervous would have been a gigantic understatement. Yet Christine had touched his face and felt the odd shape of his mouth, so she would not be overly shocked by what she encountered…or would she? It was almost enough to make him pull back in fear…_almost._

"I am willing, Christine," he told her, moving a few inches closer and placing his hands on either side of her arms. She was so soft and so warm that he had to remind himself to keep breathing. "I am more than willing."

Christine became painfully aware that if this exchange was going to take place, it was she who was going to have to make the first move. She could feel Erik trembling as he held her in his feather light touch, not pulling away, yet not initiating anything either. She was just as nervous as he, yet did not have the years of pain and degradation to taint her mind like him. So mustering all her courage she brought her hands to his chest, allowing them to slowly slide up towards his face. Just like before she felt him suck in a sharp breath as her fingers grazed across his muscles and to his neck. She could feel each nerve pulled taut as he waited there, frozen in place as she positioned her hands on either side of his masked face, getting her bearings as she rose up on her tiptoes. He was a tall man and when she reached her limit of height she gave a gentle tug and a small sigh of relief as she felt him lean down ever so slightly, meeting her halfway in expectation. The moment her mouth touched his, Christine felt as if a bolt of lightning had run through her and from the way Erik jerked back, he must have felt it too. Once the initial shock was over she pulled him back down and pressed their lips together once more, this time allowing them to rest there, not moving and yet feeling very good and right.

Erik closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation of his first kiss. His lips were on fire and never had he felt so alive than he did at this very moment. Was this what his life would now consist of? Gentle kisses and loving touches, all from his lovely Christine? His mind spun forward in time, imagining them sitting by the fire each night, reading books – both regular and in Braille – going for walks in the moonlight, laughing, singing and talking as they passed each day together. It was all he had ever dreamed of and more. And with this one kiss…his sweet, amazing, wonderful Christine had sealed her fate forever. She was his now…just as he belonged to her, and Erik would never, ever let her go.

The chaste but perfect kiss lasted only a few seconds but for the two of them, it was enough. When they both parted, breathing hard and grinning wildly, Erik leaned in and rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Christine Daae," he whispered, letting his hands move to her hair as he ran his fingers through her silken curls. "I know very little about the duties of a husband, but I swear on all I hold dear…which, in fact, is you…that I will learn and never falter in all that is required of me."

"And I promise to be a good and dutiful wife, caring for you in every way I am able," she vowed in return.

"All I ever require of you, my dear, is that you remain at my side and never leave me. For without you…I am nothing," he told her, leaning in to place a second kiss on her forehead.

"You will always be _everything_ to me, Erik," she assured him, sliding her arms around his torso as she snuggled into his chest, leaning her cheek against his thundering heart.

They remained there in this warm embrace for a long time before something suddenly occurred to Christine and she began to chuckle to herself.

"What is so amusing, my love," Erik asked, enjoying the way that title sounded on his lips.

"I was just thinking, Erik. I believe you used up your second question by asking if I would marry you," she giggled. "Now you only have one left."

"Then I'd best use it wisely," he agreed, more than happy to have spent one of his precious questions when the answer had proven to be such a delight. Oh, no…he couldn't have dreamed of a better answer than _yes!_

* * *

**Yipppeeeee, he proposed and she said YES!**

**So were you shocked when Erik got flusterd and blurted out "Marry me!"? haha. **

**And here we all thought Amir's visit and gift would cause trouble! ha ha**

**Were you shocked by her reaction to the book and her breaking the mirror?**

**I bet you all thought I was going to leave you on a cliffie to find out next chapter if they resolved all this, didn't you? ha ha**

**Her revelation that she did indeed love him and how she went right out and said YES?**

**Ohhh, his first kiss! I bet he gets a lot more of them. (are you happy now, Mystery? ha ha)**

**OH DEAR...he used another question! He only has one left!**


	32. Chapter 32

**This chapter is dedicated to Melstrife...I hope things get better for her really soon!**

**Guest Reviews:**

**Grandma Paula: Love what you said about "what comes next is cake". Take a look at the title of this chapter. ha ha. And I have one more big tada and a funny before Anna shows up.**

**Guest: Glad you were happy about the proposal. what WILL he use his last question on?**

**Lovedit: You saw that coming did ya? ha ha. I did make things go pretty fast, but hey, it was time. Oh no can't have the wedding without her parents there. ha ha. Raoul will poke his head up eventually. I did try and bring out the irony of the reversed roll situation. ha ha**

**Syrianlight: Yes, I decided I dragged it out long enough, they need to move ahead. and what better way than to get them engaged. ha ha. you sure have a lot of questions...all will be answered in due time. ha ha.**

**TheRebbs98: I liked all your noises. And I keep telling you not to worry about Raoul...he will do what he will do...and Erik will do what he must...and all will be well.**

**Mystery: I do aim to please. ha ha, I like your third question. There will be hugs and tears for sure when Anna and ERik meet again. Erik is not the ONLY one allowed to have bi-polar mood swings, ha ha.**

**Guest: Binge reading is not healthy...but it is FUN. ha ha. Thanks for saying it is one of your favorites...is any of my others on that list too? And Erik was grinning like an idiot too, so you were not alone. Thanks for reading.**

**.**

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**Chapter 32**

**The Best Man…and Cake**

* * *

As expected, the rest of the day consisted of many important conversations ranging from the date of the wedding, who would attend the ceremony, to what kind of dress Christine wished to wear. Unfortunately for Erik, most of those decisions hinged on one thing – his future in-laws. Christine insisted that they could not be married until her parents had been notified and given enough time to travel to Paris. She also explained that it was tradition for a mother to accompany her daughter in picking out her wedding attire, since Erik firmly refused to allow his bride to be married in anything but the best! No expense would be spared, he told her emphatically. Whatever she desired he would happily provide, he only insisted on one thing - that the wedding be limited to family and close friends…and no more. Erik had forced himself to live among people in the past, daring to venture out in public only when the need arose, but he had always been met with suspicion and fear. Until it finally became easier to simply hide away below and no longer even try. Thus making the idea of engaging in such an intimate and personal ceremony while surrounded by a crowd, simply too much for him to handle.

"There is something you need to do as well, Erik," Christine informed him as they sat next to each other on the sofa in the parlor. Erik was still a bit in shock over the idea that they were discussing preparations for his very own wedding. Making these kinds of arrangements had never been something he had dreamed he would need to worry about, yet he did not begrudge them in the least!

"And what is that, my darling?" Erik asked absently, as he scribbled down _'get a proper ring'_ on the list he was creating.

"You…you need to ask my father for permission to marry me," she said, looking a bit apprehensive over the instruction.

Erik's head came up and he stared at her with a mixture of fear and panic. It had truly not occurred to him that he would need to _ask_ anyone else for the privilege to wed Christine. She had said _yes_, and in his mind that was all that mattered. Yet, socially speaking, it was the proper thing to do. After all, her father had raised her from an infant, and until now_ he_ had been the most important man in her life. It would only make sense that Erik should request her hand in marriage. However, he was not looking forward to the task.

"What if he says no?" he questioned, the hint of dread easily detected in his voice.

"Why on earth would he say no?" she gasped, as if she truly saw no reason why he might.

"Christine," Erik began in an exasperated tone. "You may be blind to the fact that my appearance is rather unusual, but your parents will not have that luxury. They may take one look at me, my mask, my face, and even the fact that I am over ten years your senior and forbid our union all together."

"They would never do such a thing!" she quickly insisted, sounding almost hurt that he would ever ascribe such a terrible thought to her parents.

"They very well might, my dearest," Erik countered, trying out yet another pet name - and liking the sound of this one very much. "And I could not blame them if they did. I would not like it and I promise you that I would engage in a most heated debate until they concede that I am right, but I could never find it in my heart to fault them for such thoughts."

Instead of becoming indignant like he expected, Christine began to laugh, covering her kissable lips with the tips of her fingers.

"I have been on the receiving end of a few of your _'heated debates'_, Erik Trouville, and I assure you, that should my family decide to foolishly oppose our marriage, I have complete confidence that you will easily sway them to your way of thinking."

Erik was not sure if that was a compliment or not, but the idea that his little bride-to-be had that much faith in him, made his chest swell with pride.

"Indeed," he agreed smugly. "I can be rather persuasive when it is required." It was too bad he could not employ his other more sinister methods in order to get his way in this matter. Yet he seriously doubted that Christine would appreciate him torturing her father to earn his consent. And while Erik had never given much thought to having to deal with a father-in-law before…he found he already admired this man enough that the idea of doing him physical harm caused him to become physically ill.

.

.

Later he assisted Christine in penning another letter to her parents, describing their intentions to marry and inviting the pair to join them in Paris as soon as possible. He had urged her to speak of her current sightless condition, but she was hesitant in doing so…claiming that she wished to broach that particular subject in person - and after a bit, Erik relented. It would be a very painful conversation, one that was probably best handled when her loved ones were within arm's reach – where comforting hugs could easily be administered.

"I suppose I will have to move out before they arrive," Christine concluded in a sad voice as they finished and sealed the envelope.

"What? Why?" This did not please Erik in the least!

"I don't _want_ to leave, Erik. But think about it," Christine insisted, her voice taking on a more sensible tone, "how do you believe my parents will take to the idea that I have been living down here with you for almost two months…_unchaperoned?_ When I first arrived I was in too fragile a state to have cared about social convention and the fact that my being here alone with you was not acceptable. By the time such a thing even occurred to me, I had already come to trust you enough to know you would never have pressed your advantage in such an unseemly manner and thus gave it no more thought. However…I fear my father will not see things the same way. So perhaps when they arrive, it would be best that I find other accommodations…at least until our wedding."

Erik was still not happy about this, yet even _he_ saw the wisdom in her words. It would not do to have her family despise him immediately over the fact that he had endangered her reputation by allowing her to dwell under the same roof as him in an unmarried state. After all, they had so many _other_ reasons to hate him…why give them more? Regrettably, having her move out was the most logical solution, especially when their only other option would be to have someone move in to act as Christine's chaperone. And since the Daroga was the only person who knew the location of their underground home …well, THAT idea was just too horrible to even consider! Erik could hardly get through their weekly visits without wishing to strangle the man, he could not imagine actually living with the insufferable Persian!

"Very well, Christine," Erik said with a heavy sigh. "I do see your point. Perhaps we could petition the Opera House to allow you to reside in the dormitories with the dancers until the festival?" He would be much more apt to let her go if he was able to keep constant tabs on her this way, as opposed to her getting some lonely apartment miles away.

"Why would they do that for me?" Christine questioned, not understanding Erik's suggestion at all. "And besides, having me live at the Opera Garnier would instantly alert them to my sightless state for sure. No, I think it best that I search out an inexpensive apartment or flat." She then got a rather sheepish look on her face as she added shyly, "That is…if you would be willing to pay for it, Erik. I fear that I have come to rely on your generous nature far too much and it was wrong of me to just automatically assume…"

"No, my darling," Erik broke in. "I never want you to think such things. My reluctance to have you move out has nothing to do with any expense it might incur. I will happily pay for whatever you need or desire. For very soon I shall endow you with all my worldly goods… what reason would I have to deprive you of my care now?"

"I…I just did not wish to presume…" she tried to explain. "I know so little about you in that way, Erik. Things like your profession and financial status are still very much a mystery to me."

"I suppose I should be glad of that," Erik remarked, getting a sly grin on his face. "After all, since you do not know if I am wealthy or not, I can at least presume you are not simply marrying me for my money."

"ERIK!" Christine gasped, sounding shocked and offended. "I am deeply insulted that you would even say such a thing!" However when she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around one of his and leaned her head down on his shoulder, he seriously doubted that she held such words against him. "I would marry you even if you were the poorest of men, begging on the streets for enough coin to buy your next meal."

Erik leaned down and placed another precious kiss upon her head, relishing the feel of her snuggled up against him.

"It was not so very long ago that was closer to the truth than you realize," Erik informed her. "However, thanks to a bit of…well, shall we say sleight of hand, the Shah of Persia very generously gifted many of his rare and valuable jewels to me when I left his country. Thus allowing me to live rather comfortably ever since." Erik purposefully chose to leave out any mention of his current occupation as the resident ghost for the Opera Garnier. He truly wished to be honest with Christine in all things, especially his questionable past, but he was still a bit leery about sharing too much of his present. Some things were best eased into…gently.

Christine raised her head and gave him a skeptical look.

"_Gifted_ you with the jewels?" she questioned, her tone betraying her disbelief.

"Perhaps gifted is a rather strong word," Erik mused. "Although for all the work I did for that man, I would prefer to think I earned every bit of it. It is a small price to pay for building him a palace and disposing of his enemies so that he might rule with a measure of security." Erik felt Christine stiffen up at his mention of his former career and quickly decided that it was best they steer clear of that particular topic. "The point being that I am very comfortable, financially speaking, and you need never worry about begging on the street or where our next meal is coming from. The worst you need to fear is that Victor develops a sudden case of insanity and forgets to deliver our weekly supplies like I hired him to. Yet I can guarantee that he would only do so once before he would find himself out of a job!"

"Erik! It is wrong for you to speak of Monsieur Victor in such a harsh manner," Christine gently scolded, running her hand down his arm until she was able to intertwine his fingers with her own. "He seems like a very nice young man and I am sure he would be quite pleased to know we are now engaged."

Engaged! Erik still could not get used to the idea that he…_Erik, the human corpse and Angel of Death_, was to take a bride! And not just any bride, but the most beautiful, gentle, kind and desirable one he could ever imagine. He could not have been more fortunate if he had actively sought her out.

"Regardless of how you seem to value his character, I feel no pressing need to share the news of our upcoming union with the man," Erik huffed, preferring to keep this intimate knowledge just between the two of them…at least for now.

"What about Monsieur Amir?" Christine pressed. "He will need to be told for sure, since we will require him to mail off my letter to my parents and prepare for his position as best man."

"Best man of what?" Erik asked, leaning back a bit so that he could look down at Christine.

"Our wedding, of course," she giggled, assuming that Erik was just teasing her. "You will need to ask him far enough in advance to stand up for you so that he will have time to acquire the appropriate outfit."

"Amir…_my best man?"_ Erik choked out, doing his utmost to neither gag nor laugh over such a ridiculous idea. "Why on earth would I ever ask _him_ to occupy such a prestigious position as that?"

"Because, Erik…" Christine began, acting as if her need to explain such things again was the most tedious of jobs, "he admires you a great deal…just like _you_ respect him." When Erik began to sputter in denial, she held up her hand to silence him. "You can argue the point all you want but I will not be convinced otherwise. You will indeed be asking him to serve as your best man, for if not Amir…who else is there?"

Erik was at a loss, for other than Victor, he could not think of another man with whom he was actively acquainted. There was always Charles Garnier, for the two had been amiable enough during their acquaintance, yet the architect had retired somewhere on the Italian Riviera and Erik had not spoken to him in years. While he had requested a small wedding, Erik suddenly began to wonder if he would have anyone there for his side at all. He felt a pain in his heart that the one person he would have loved to have seen in attendance would not be there. _Anna_. She had been the closest thing to family he had ever known and it would have truly made the dream complete to have seen her smiling at him from the audience as he took his vows. Yet some dreams were not meant to be…while others - he thought as he looked down at the cherubic face of his lady love - others were about to come true!

"I…I will think on it," he vowed to her, not wanting to upset her in any way. What did it matter to him if the Persian was present when they wed? Perhaps he would see how happy Erik was at last and finally leave the two of them in peace. It was a long shot…but like he said…_some_ dreams do come true.

.

.

The evening passed quickly and soon it was time to bid Christine goodnight. Erik had performed this ritual many times since she had arrived in his underground home, but somehow tonight was different. He did not wish to part with her, even for a moment, and while he knew she would only be two rooms away… it still hurt. As she stood at the threshold, looking up at him with a sweet smile on her lips, his throat went dry and his words would not form. Erik just stood there, running his hands slowly up and down her arms while he stared at her - trying to memorize every line, every curve and each strand of her hair that he loved so dearly. Finally, he found the courage to speak.

"Christine…may I…may I please kiss you goodnight?" he asked, his voice unsteady and unsure.

"I would like it very much if you did, Erik," she assured him, her smile growing ever brighter.

Needing no more encouragement than that, he leaned down, letting his mouth linger only a hair's breadth away from hers before he made contact. Her lips were just as soft as he remembered and he could not believe that she was allowing him such liberties a second time. He had meant for it to be a simple kiss, chaste and undemanding, and yet when he felt her little hands slide their way up his chest once more and encircle his neck, drawing him closer still, he lost all sense of decorum. Almost against his will, his own arms reached around and engulfed her, pulling her body to his in an intimate embrace. She felt so perfectly right in his arms as her lips molded to his, like two missing pieces of a glorious puzzle. He heard her let out a quiet moan, of what he could only imagine was pleasure, and he just about burst into tears over the musical sound. He was not only enjoying the kiss…but _she_ appeared to be as well! Could life get any better than this?

When they parted at last, the two smiling from ear to ear, he took a step back, afraid of what might happen if he remained in such close proximity. He was a gentleman and she was the purest of ladies. He would not continue to ravage her lips as if he had any right to do so. She might be his fiancée, but she deserved to be treated with honor and decency. She had already given him so much…he dared not take any more.

"G-g-good night, Christine," he whispered, hating the sound of any type of farewell he must speak to her.

"Good night, Erik," she returned, slowly slipping out of his embrace and entering her room. She turned and gave him one last loving smile as she shut the door behind her.

.

.

Erik hardly slept that night, his mind spinning and his nerves all a jumble. Had Christine actually said yes to his proposal? And would she still feel the same way in the morning, or instead come to her senses and recant? The hours dragged by and with each tick of the clock Erik's fears mounted. Until he could wait no longer and bounded from his bed, eager to start the day so he could discover if he still had her heart…or if his would soon be broken.

It was quite early and yet he could not hold himself back from knocking on her door.

"Christine…are you awake?" He fully expected her to still be in bed, being forced to rise and fumble her way to the door in order to see what he wanted. Yet when the wooden barrier between them was jerked open and a fully dressed whirlwind of a girl came bursting forth, launching herself into his eager arms, Erik knew it had not all been a dream.

"Good morning, my husband-to-be!" she greeted him, enjoying how his talented hands wrapped around her as he once more lifted her up and twirled her in a circle as she laughed with glee.

"So it _was_ real?" he muttered, his voice deep and husky as he set her back down and stared into her sightless eyes. "You did say yes."

"And I will say it again and again if you ever need reminding," she assured him, sliding her hands up to cup his masked face as she pulled him down for a quick kiss.

"I fear that I will continue to need such reminders until it all sinks in and I finally believe it to be the truth," he warned her, removing her hands from his face and pulling them to his chest, caressing them with his thumbs. "I was afraid to fall asleep last night for fear I would wake to find it had only been a dream. But you are indeed here and you…you still love me?"

"I love you more today than yesterday, if that is at all possible," she assured him with a giggle.

"Yet not as much as I shall love you tomorrow," he promised, chuckling slightly as he leaned in and placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead. "For you are my future and all I shall ever need."

Christine opened her mouth to speak as well, but before she could form words her stomach grumbled in want of nourishment, the sound making her blush.

"I was going to say the same, but it appears that my body insists that I am in need of something else besides your love," she laughed, covering her stomach with one hand.

"Then allow me to see to your care, as any good husband should, my love," Erik said, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm as he led her towards the kitchen.

.

.

The day was perfect, as were the next two that followed. Erik was in heaven, floating from moment to moment as if carried on the wings of joy. They ate, they sang and they sat together talking about their future plans while he would hold her hand, kissing each delicate finger, or stroking her hair, admiring every glistening curl. He could not imagine a more satisfied existence, and Christine seemed just as contented. If this was to be his new life, he would spend every day from now to his death in complete happiness, never wanting for anything more than this.

Christine's suggestion that she move out before her family arrived and take a small apartment still upset him terribly. However, he decided that if it should come to that, he would need to make it something a bit more extravagant. Erik would have Victor begin searching for a high-end flat in the more posh district of Paris, for he could not have his future in-laws thinking he was cheap or could not afford better for their daughter! Yet before they could arrive, and the much desired wedding take place, the letter Christine had written to her parents needed to be delivered. And since the Daroga was not due back for another four days, Erik decided that _he_ would have to take it to him personally.

When he announced to Christine that he intended to go out and meet with Amir, she did not seem to mind. He was grateful that she did not insist on going with him, but when she informed him of what she intended to do in his absence, he became a bit concerned.

"You wish to bake a cake?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, in celebration of our engagement," she told him, sounding very proud of her idea. "There is a particular kind I have been craving lately and since it is one I have made many times in the past, I should have no trouble whipping it up while you are gone."

"Are you certain you would not prefer to attempt it when I am present to assist you?" he questioned, not feeling very secure about leaving her alone with such a monumental task. Flashes of Anna's first attempt at baking a cake sprang to his mind and memories of the smoke that filled the house and how they had ran about opening windows filled him with a sense of panic. If Christine's baking experience turned out similar, there were no windows for her to open and he shuddered at the idea of his little angle passing out, her precious lungs filled with the smoke of charred bake goods.

"Erik, if I am to be your wife, you will need to trust that I can do more in the kitchen than simply boil water for tea." She then drew closer to him and placed her hands on his chest as she stared up at him with a pleading look. "Please let me do this for you? I want to make you proud of me."

"Christine," Erik said with a confused shake of his head, 'you need only stand here and speak your unbelievable words of love to impress me. That one act alone has earned you my undying appreciation and awe. You never need do any more than that." Yet when he saw her lip stick out in an adorable little pout, he could not help but acquiesce with an amused sigh. "Very well, my love, you may bake your cake."

"Wonderful!" she squealed, instantly returning to her normal happy state. "I will just require you to help me lay out all the ingredients before you go, so that I will not have to search the cupboards again and create such a mess."

"That would be preferred," Erik nodded, remembering how he had spent the better part of an hour cleaning up the spilt molasses from the last time she chosen to cook unassisted.

When the clock struck eight, signaling to Erik that the sun had long since set and there would be fewer people on the streets, he announced his intent to leave.

"I need just one more thing," Christine asked as she stood beside the kitchen counter. "I need some cooking sherry."

"Cooking sherry…what for?" Erik asked, giving her a skeptical look.

"You put a dash of it in the cake as well as the frosting to give it that extra zing," she explained. "Most of the alcohol will cook out while baking, but the flavor it leaves makes all the difference. You will love it. Do you have any?"

"I probably do in the liquor cabinet," he told her, leaving the kitchen and heading for the parlor. Opening the little wood and glass case he began to pull out various bottles, looking for the one Christine desired. Erik was careful never to overindulge in the spirits, but every now and again he would slip into a bit of a melancholy state and he figured numbing the pain with alcohol was safer than being tempted to once again partake of those addictive drugs that had been forced upon him in Persia. A sly grin touched his lips when he remembered that the last time he had felt the need to take a drink was the night Christine had arrived. If only he had known then what pure joy his little angel's presence was destined to bring to his life.

One of the last two selections he pulled out yielded success as he found the type of liquor she had asked for, a nice red bottle of cooking sherry. The other one in his hand looked almost identical but when he read the label he found it to be a very expensive bottle of Aragh Sagi from Persia, something he had purchased a while back for no particular reason he could recall. Perhaps it would be a nice gesture to offer it to the Daroga…as a bribe you might say, for sending him on yet another trip to the post office on Christine's behalf. Erik would never stoop so low as to attempt to appease the Daroga, but he would not allow him to think ill of Christine over all this, so the bottle of alcohol should more than balance the scales, as they say.

So putting the rest back in the cabinet he took the two bottles into the kitchen, setting the cooking sherry on the counter for Christine to use.

"Oh, and I will need a large mixing bowl," she added, ticking off all the supplies in her mind to make sure she had not forgotten anything else.

Erik set the bottle of wine down and reached into the cupboard to fetch the desired bowl, placing it next to the wooden spoon and measuring cups.

"Are you sure that is all you need?" he asked, eyeing the ingredients she had asked him to lay out.

"I believe so," she smiled happily. "Now you go see Amir and be sure to ask him about standing up with you at our wedding," Christine instructed.

"We will see," Erik grumbled, still unsure if he wanted to do such a ridiculous thing. He would probably invite the man to attend, but the idea of asking him to participate in such an honored capacity…well the jury was still out on that. Grabbing his bottle of Persian spirits and tucking it in the hidden pocket of his cloak, he leaned down and kissed his little Christine on the cheek, wishing her happy baking as he left their underground home.

.

.

Amir had just sat down to dinner, a delicious Fesenjan stew Darius had prepared, when there came a determined knock at his door. Once again, both men exchanged a wary look before the older man threw his napkin down on the table and stormed out of his dining room and into the parlor, signaling for his manservant to see who it was.

It was not a huge surprise when Erik filled his doorway, nor the look of fear that crossed Darius' face by his ominous presence. Amir suddenly had a sneaking suspicion about how Erik felt whenever he would turn up on his doorstep…uncertain and a bit inconvenienced.

"Twice in one week, Erik…this has to be some kind of record," Amir chuckled, gesturing for the masked man to enter. When in truth, this was only the second time Erik had ever come to his home at all. "What can I do for you this time?"

Erik gave the man a surprised look as he removed his hat and gloves, waving off the hovering Darius who had tried to take them from him. When Amir gave the young man a silent nod, he quickly disappeared into the other room, allowing his master to entertain his guest privately.

"I am amazed that you did not automatically assume the worst by my appearance, Daroga," Erik told him as he unclasped his cloak and laid it down beside him on the small sofa.

"Yes, well…I am trying my best to not jump to conclusions where you are concerned," Amir huffed, not appreciating how arrogant Erik now appeared. "Just do not abuse my trust."

"I will endeavor not to," Erik chuckled, finding it quite odd to hear such things from the Persian. Perhaps what Christine said was not so far off after all.

"Oh, that reminds me, Erik," Amir began, sinking down in his comfy chair opposite the sofa. "I have something to give you, making it quite fortuitous that you happen to arrive so unexpectedly. But first, quench my curiosity and tell me, what _does_ bring you here?"

"A letter," he informed the man, taking the sealed envelope out of his pocket and handing it over.

"Is this perhaps another forgotten piece of mail? One that should have been sent out weeks ago?" Amir asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Shame on you, Daroga, I thought you said you were exercising a measure of faith in me?" Erik scolded, not _too_ terribly hurt by his accusation. "And for the record, no…this letter was penned in only the last few days, yet needs to be sent out with the utmost urgency."

"Oh? And why is that?" he asked, still looking rather skeptical.

"It is a letter to Christine's parents, announcing…" here Erik stopped, not quite sure how this news would be received, and yet, it had to be said, "…announcing our intent to marry."

If Erik had been expecting Amir to fly out of his seat and begin shouting obscenities over the news, he was sadly mistaken. For instead, the older man just sat there, as a sly smile crossed his face.

"Well…I must say, this is quite an interesting turn of events," the Persian chuckled. "Do tell, which one of you finally gained the courage to proclaim your intentions first? You or our bold little Christine?"

Erik's eyes narrowed as he thought how to answer the man. He did not appreciate the smug look on Amir's face and almost got up and left the house because of it. Yet he still needed the man as his delivery boy, so he stayed and did his best to hold back his ire.

"It was I who broached the idea of marriage," Erik informed him. "Yet…it was Christine who first proclaimed her feelings of love."

"Very interesting," Amir mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "And here I would have bet money it would have been the other way around." When he heard a distinctive growl from his guest, the Persian added quickly, "It was just so painfully obvious that you had such deep feelings for the girl, is all. I was surprised you had not informed her of your emotional state long before this." He sat forward with a big grin on his face. "But regardless of all that, I am very pleased to hear this, Erik. Very pleased indeed."

Erik however remained skeptical, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I am not a man prone to declarations of love," he informed the Daroga. "Unlike you, I have not had much…_practice_ at this game, thus I perhaps proceed with a bit more caution."

"Might I inquire if Mademoiselle Daae is aware of…your past?" Amir asked, sounding a bit uncomfortable, but knowing it was a subject that needed to be dealt with. "Does she know about your deeds in Persia? It would be highly unfair to keep her in the dark about such things, only to spring them upon her after the wedding when she is unable to recant her decision."

"Of course I told her!" Erik fumed, not at all liking the man's notion that he would willingly entrap Christine in a marriage under false pretenses. "I informed her of every aspect of my past, even parts that _you_ are not aware of, you pernicious Persian! She knows it all and still my little angel wishes to marry me!"

"And your mask…as well as what you hide behind it?" Erik could tell that it had been a difficult question for the Daroga to ask…and it was proving equally hard for Erik to answer.

"Yes…even that," Erik muttered, turning away with a look of shame. "My inquisitive and deductive little sleuth figured it out all on her own and divested me of my mask in her attempt to discover what I was hiding. She was made privy to both my temper and my deformities…and still she stayed." His pain seemed to melt away at that statement, leaving only a smile of gratitude in its place. "What a good girl she is, Daroga. Such a good, sweet, innocent girl."

"I am truly happy to hear that, Erik," Amir said with a pleased nod. "Did I not say that the two of you were made for each other?" He then sat back and folded his hands, as if settling in for an exciting tale. "So where do you two plan on living once you are wed? Someplace in the country perhaps, with a little land where you can grow a garden and raise some children?" The whole idea of wedded bliss did not sound appealing to Amir, being a confirmed bachelor and all, but he knew that others saw it as the domestic dream.

Yet Erik remained silent, choosing not to respond as he heard the distinctive thud of that other shoe dropping. Amir's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"You _have_ talked of such things…have you not?" the Persian asked pointedly. "You do not intend to keep the girl cloistered down in that cave you call a home, do you?"

"That is our concern and ours alone!" Erik hissed, not liking his tone in the least.

"The hell it is!" Amir shouted, sitting up as he stared at his masked visitor. "I will not sit by and allow you to keep Christine down below like some little trinket you can put on a shelf and just admire. She has talent, she has prospects…she has a life!"

"Her life now consists of being my wife!" Erik insisted. "However, contrary to what you think, I am not a complete fool! I know she must continue to sing, just as much as she must continue to breathe. I will make sure her dreams are realized, even if the Opera Ghost has to force those buffoons into seeing things his way!" He then leaned forward as well, bringing his masked face dangerously close to Amir's. "But do not ever presume that your opinion on how we choose to live our lives matters to me in the least! _Erik_ will care for Christine…_he_ will protect her and _he_ will give her all she could ever want. And if that means keeping her locked away in an underground prison to ensure her safety…then by God, Erik will! It will atone, Daroga! It will atone!"

"Erik," Amir said with a heavy sigh as he sat back once more. "I do not doubt your love for the girl and that you only wish for what is best for her. I just don't want you to make the mistake of thinking you can force her to agree with you simply on your say so. At least talk with her about it first. You might be surprised by what she is thinking on certain matters. Women _have_, on occasion, been known to possess a _few_ ideas about how their lives should be run, you know."

Erik knew Amir was right – _damn him to hell!_ But he still did not want to think about such unsavory thoughts as the ones the Persian had brought up. Not only did the idea of living above ground cause Erik to feel nauseous, but some of the other parts the Daroga had mentioned left him highly unsettled as well. Up until now, Erik had not even considered how their lives would proceed beyond the day of the wedding, exactly where they might live or what their relationship might consist of. Yet suddenly all he could think about was how little he knew about her ideas concerning marital relations…_with him_. While Erik had often dreamed of having such an intimate bond with a woman, he had never dared imagine it could ever become a reality. And certainly not with one as pure and lovely as Christine! Had she not just claimed that she believed him incapable of pressing his advantage in such a carnal fashion? Did she imagine that he would _never_ wish to do so? Her kisses were like heaven and her smiles like sunshine, yet her touches left Erik burning from a flame he could not easily extinguish…and it was getting more and more difficult by the day. What were her thoughts on this subject? Was it something he was allowed to ask her about? Good Lord, could he even formulate the words to try?

Erik was suddenly aware that Amir had continued speaking while Erik's mind had been lost in his own thoughts. And though he hardly ever gave credence to what the Daroga had to say, he felt that in this case it might actually be somewhat helpful, so Erik gave him his attention.

"….and if you do so, I think you will lessen your odds of alienating the girl, thus improving any chance you have that this relationship might actually work," Amir finished, appearing very proud of his sage advice.

Erik blinked several times before he suddenly stood, reaching for his cloak.

"I will take that under consideration," he assured the man, having no idea what he had even said. "But for now I must be off, Christine is baking us a cake and I find that I have a sudden desire to go home and share it with her." He reached for his cloak and fastened it in place, but as he did, Erik felt the weight of the bottle of Aragh Sagi he had brought as a peace offering. It was probably best that he gift it now, seeing as how he had not only yelled at the man, but then completely ignored him as well. Nothing truly different from any other conversation shared between the two, but for some reason, tonight Erik felt a twinge of guilt over it. "Here, Daroga," Erik said, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "I…I brought you a little something to say…well…for helping Christine with her letters."

Amir stood and took the bottle from Erik's hand, looking quite shocked by both his words and gift. Yet his expression quickly turned to confusion when he noted the label.

"Cooking sherry?" the Persian asked. "While I thank you for the thought, I must say, this is a very odd gift…even for you, Erik."

"What?" the masked man barked, grabbing the bottle back and looking at it more closely. "Damn! I grabbed the wrong one!" Erik grumbled, thinking he must have taken it by mistake when he set the Aragh Sagi down on the kitchen counter. Yet if _he_ had the cooking sherry with him…that meant Christine would now be using the Persian alcohol by mistake! He had to get home! "I must go now!" he announced, grabbing his hat and gloves and rushing out the door so quickly that Amir did not even have a chance to ask what was going on.

However, all Erik could think about was the fact that his little mix-up could quite possibly ruin Christine's cake, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be upset with him this early on in their relationship.

He only hoped he was not too late.

* * *

**Oh dear...is Aragh Sagi highly flammable? **

**So what did you think of their talk about wedding preparations?**

**How about the idea that Christine has to move out?**

**Raise your hand if you think Erik was not too keen on the idea of making Amir his best man.**

**Baking...alone...while blind...will this be a disaster beyond Erik's imagination, or a nice sweet treat?**

**Yah, Erik, not sure what trouble this bottle mix up will cause, but you better get home fast!**

**IMPORTANT: I am attending a family member's wedding this weekend, so I will be VERY buys...to make up for probably not getting to reply to ALL your wondrful reviews before Monday, I am going to post an "I am sorry" chapter on Saturday. **


	33. Chapter 33

**A free snippet card to the first reader (with an account) who spots the line in this chapter from Siren of the Sea!**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**Guest: glad you enjoyed the wedding talk. And ball park figure...let's just say that you will START to be happy by next weekend.**

**Syrianlight: you worry too much. Ha ha. Just read on and always know I will give you a happy ending.**

**PhantomChristine: so glad I made you happy. Yep his living bride. We all hope Erik makes it in time.**

**Mystery: them tipsy would be fun! Yep...poor Erik, having to talk about sex and babies! Was that fast enough?**

**MlleNikkei: well here is the answer to all your questions...read on.**

**Phantomlover: ha ha, right, get our priorities straight! Ha ha**

**Guessst: I think Anna would be sitting in the middle. Ha ha**

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**Chapter 33**

**All About Taste**

* * *

All the way back to his lair, Erik fretted over what he would find upon his return. Would Christine be angry with him for the mix up? Would her cake be ruined? He did not wish to be the cause of any tears should her attempt to bake turn out to be a failure.

When he opened the door to their underground home he stood there and listened for a moment, gauging if he was in any sort of serious trouble. He did not hear any crying, so at least she was not so upset it had led to tears. He also did not smell any smoke, so apparently the cake had not burnt. However, now that he thought about it, he smelled nothing at all. No delicious aroma of baking confections assaulted his senses either. This did not bode well.

"Christine?" Erik called, a sense of foreboding taking hold of him.

"Erik?" Came an almost frantic call, instantly setting his nerves on edge. "Erik, help!"

"Christine! Where are you?" he called, yet quite certain her voice was coming from the direction of the kitchen.

"I am in here…please help me!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Erik raced down the hall following the sound of her plea for assistance. When he arrived at the kitchen door he almost tripped over her shoes and a pair of stockings, lying in the middle of the doorway. That was odd. Yet he did not stop to analyze why they might be there, for he was far too worried about their owner. As he entered, Erik found his darling girl sitting on the floor, her back propped against the counter with her legs lying flat out before her. She was slightly covered in flour and surrounded by more spilt baking ingredients, a broken bowl and a shattered bottle…presumably the missing Aragh Sagi.

"Erik," she whined plaintively, her eyes clouding with tears as she reached her arms out towards him.

"Christine!" he gasped, hurrying to her side as he fell to his knees next to her, avoiding any sharp objects as he did so. "What happened, are you all right?"

"I am now that you are here," she wailed, tears now running down her cheeks as she grasped for his hands in distress. "I…I was mixing the batter for the cake…and then I…I reached for more flour and must have forgot where I sat it because I…I knocked it onto the floor and it went everywhere. I bent down to pick up the sack but I guess I had the bowl too close to the edge of the counter because the next thing I heard was the sound of breaking glass everywhere and then I was stuck. I was too afraid to move, for fear I would step on something and cut myself, so I just sat down and waited for you to come home."

"Why are you not wearing any shoes, Christine?" he scolded, shaking his head as he stared at her exposed toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirt.

"Shoes?" she repeated, acting as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Yes, I almost tripped over your shoes and stockings by the kitchen door as I came in," he told her, watching recognition cross her face as if she just remembered taking them off. "Did you not learn your lesson about going barefoot when you stubbed your toe?"

"I got hot!" she whined, wiping her eyes and looking quite pathetic in her confession. "And it was not as if I _planned_ to drop everything on the floor and trap myself this way!" She then reached up and put the palms of her hands against her forehead and leaned her head back. "I am so humiliated," she mumbled, mostly to herself. "My first attempt at baking alone and just look at the mess I got myself into. A mess that _you_ have to once again pull me out of."

As she was speaking, Erik took note that her speech seemed a bit slow and a few words were slurred, making him think she might have suffered some kind of trauma.

"Christine, at any time did you hit your head during all this? Perhaps on the counter when you were bending over or standing up?" he asked, taking her face in his hands as he turned it gently to inspect for a fresh bump or cut. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary he truly became perplexed. "Let me get you up and then you should have a drink, maybe you just need a sip of cool water."

"I_ am_ still a bit hot," she admitted, fanning herself with her free hand. Erik moved to try and help her rise but apparently something suddenly occurred to her and she gripped his arm. "Wait…do you see the bottle of cooking sherry around anywhere?" She began to turn her head left and right, as if trying to locate the missing item. "I would love another sip of that…it was very good. You should try some, Erik. It is the best I have ever baked with."

Suddenly Erik reached out his hand to gently tip her chin up towards him, examining her face and eyes more closely. When he noticed a bit of glassiness reflecting back at him and how flushed her cheeks appeared, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Christine…how much of that sherry did you drink?"

"Drink?" Christine asked, doing her best to focus on his voice, which for some reason felt like it was coming from very far away. "I…I only had a few sips. I thought it smelled odd when I went to use it, so I took a taste to make sure it had not spoiled." Her words were followed by a slight hiccup as she covered her lips with the tips of her fingers.

"Just a sip?" he asked skeptically. A quick glance at the floor showed the broken bottle, another casualty of Christine's clumsiness it would seem. There was quite a puddle of the liquid surrounding her, but he could not tell just how much she might have consumed, all the while thinking it was a harmless sherry.

"Well…the first taste was so very pleasant…that after I added some to the cake batter, maybe I had one or two more samples," she confessed, her cheeks now turning an even rosier shade of pink. "Is…is there any more of it? I am sure there was some left."

"It is gone, my dear," Erik informed her, beginning to get a sneaking suspicion as to what was truly wrong with his little angel. "You must have knocked the bottle off the counter as well, for it is here on the floor beside the mixing bowl…broken."

"There is no more?" This news seemed to upset her quite profoundly, for she leaned forward and buried her face in her hands and began to cry again. "I wanted you to taste it too, Erik, and it was so good…and now there is none left to put in my next cake."

"Christine, my darling," Erik began, his panic instantly fading and now being replaced by relief…as well as a touch of humor over her little tantrum at losing her delicious bottle of _sherry_. "I am sorry it is gone, but I am pretty certain that drinking what you did of it has made you…well… _intoxicated_."

"What?" she gasped in shock, her tears halting instantly at his words. "That is impossible! I have had several glasses of sherry in the past and it has never affected me in the slightest. You are ridiculous!" Her statement was followed by yet another hiccup and this time a slight uncontrolled giggle.

"No, I am pretty certain of my diagnosis. Though I must admit that I am the one at fault for your condition, not you," Erik confessed, unable to stop the smile that crept across his face. "Much to my embarrassment, Christine, I left you a bottle of Persian Aragh Sagi by mistake, instead of the cooking sherry. You, my precious, took one too many _sips_ of some very potent alcohol and I fear it has indeed left you quite inebriated."

"I…I thought it tasted far too good for a simple cooking sherry…but it was just so deliciously sweet that I assumed it was some French brand I had never tried before," she murmured, reaching up and placing her palms against her flushed cheeks. "So…this is what it feels like to be…_drunk_?"

"I am afraid so," Erik nodded, reaching out to assist her to rise, carefully setting her on her wobbly, bare feet in a place where there was no sharp debris. When she swayed a bit, like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time, Erik quickly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her tightly to him, her back now pressed against his front.

"You know what?" she asked, her voice now sounding more amused than upset. "I think I rather enjoy this feeling. It is…well…quite liberating! I am not even upset any more over spilling my cake batter. But I bet you will be when you have to clean it up!"

This brought on another fit of giggles from Christine, causing Erik's smile to widen at her silly antics. He had dealt with many intoxicated people in his life, even himself from time to time, but never had he encountered one more enchanting than Christine.

"I am very sorry for mixing up the bottles, my dear," Erik felt compelled to say, for even if she was enjoying the effects of the alcohol now, she most certainly would not come morning. "The one you drank from was intended to go to Amir tonight as a gift. You can imagine his surprise, and my dismay, when he instead received a bottle of weak cooking sherry."

"Did he say that he would be your..." there was a pause in her words as another hiccup was heard, "…best man?" Christine was currently attempting to turn around in Erik's arms so she could face him, yet all her muscles appeared to be working against her. She ended up slumped against him, her arms reaching out to encircle his neck as she fought to remain standing. "I really like Amir, did I ever tell you that? He is one upstanding fellow!"

"You think so, do you?" Drunk or not, Erik did not like the sound of that. "Well, I did not have a chance to ask him," Erik told her with a huff, not wishing to discuss _that_ particular subject while his irritation for the man, and the things he had said, were still so fresh in his mind. "But he did promise to mail the letter to your family," he assured her. He could feel Christine slipping down his chest as her knees began to buckle, so before she got any further he bent over and scooped her up in his arms. She gave a squeak when he did so, causing him to laugh at her adorable sounds. "Come along, Christine, I think that is enough _baking_ for one day," he insisted, leaving the mess behind him as he headed towards her room. She didn't put up any argument and happily snuggled against him, causing Erik to release a contented sigh.

"You smell nice," she purred, her voice muffled by the folds of his cloak against her lips.

"I am pleased to hear that," he chuckled, thinking that now he could inform Amir that he was not the only one Christine had said this about. "However, I believe it is best that you get…" Erik's next words froze on his lips and his body grew rigid when suddenly he felt her lips against his neck, kissing their way up towards his ear. He instantly stumbled to a dead stop, almost dropping her out of pure shock. "Christine! W-w-what are you doing?" he gasped, pulling his head away from her scorching touch.

"I wanted to see if you tasted as good as you smelled," she answered with a giggle, followed by several more adorable hiccups. She then tightened her grip around his neck and pulled him back down, her lips once more making sweet contact with his helpless flesh. "And you do…you taste divine."

Erik just stood there, holding her as she continued her tortuous assault on his throat, each kiss branding him in a way he hoped left marks, proving her lips had truly been there. It was both painful and heavenly at the same time and it took all his willpower to force his legs to move once more, heading for her room…yet this time at a snail's pace. When he reached the bed, he reluctantly set her down, doing his best to catch his breath as he ran his hand up and down his neck, tracing every inch where she had just touched him so intimately.

"Erik," she whined, reaching her hands out to him as he took a step back, doing his best to remain at arm's length.

"Christine, you should go to sleep…now!" he instructed, clearing his throat a few times as he fought to sound calm.

"I don't want to sleep. I want to talk!" she told him, sitting up in the bed and tucking her legs beneath her as she patted the mattress in an inviting manner. "I have something very important to ask you, Erik, and I need you to come and sit here when I do."

He eyed her skeptically, not sure he should agree to her demands, and yet, he found himself powerless to resist. So easing himself down, he sat next to her just as she had bid.

"What is your question, Christine?"

She scooted a few inches closer as she felt around for his hand, bringing it up to rest close to her heart. This was meant as an innocent gesture, Erik was sure of it, yet when his fingers grazed the swell of her breast in the process, it sent a shiver down his spine that radiated through his whole body. It was plain that Christine was quite intoxicated and could not be held accountable for her actions…but _he_ had no such excuse. Just the nearness of her was affecting him in ways he had fought against all his adult life, and if he were to allow his mind to give in to what his body was now demanding…then he would truly be the monster he always believed himself to be.

"I was wondering, Erik…" she began, leaning dangerously close to him. "If you thought….that I…tasted good as well?" she finished as she let her lips find his, sliding up his chin and making contact with his mouth just as he opened it to let loose a gasp of surprise.

Erik wanted to push her away, to scold her for such improper conduct…yet he just couldn't! Her hungry lips were now seeking his out, all the while tempting, tantelizing…and _tasting!_ And he was completely helpless, able to do nothing except kiss her in return. He felt her inquisitive little tongue teasing at the entrance of his mouth and in an overwhelming fit of passion he allowed it entry, enjoying the feel of her joined with him in such a new and erotic fashion. Oh, she was sweet, the most delicious nectar one could imagine – and he knew it had nothing to do with the Aragh Sagi that still lingered on her breath. His brain began to cloud and he felt himself give in to her insistent urgings, his hands reaching out to take hold of her arms and pull her towards him. He was acting on pure instinct now, for Erik had no frame of reference to draw from in these matters. Sure, he had _seen_ more than his fair share of lascivious encounters in Persia…but none of them even compared to how he was feeling right now. This was not just lust…not simply love…this was a heady combination of both that left his mind spinning and his heart beating so rapidly, that he could hardly hear anything else. Yet above it all, her gentle moans of pleasure pierced him to his very soul.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered as her hands sought out the clasp of his cloak, unfastening it and tossing it off his shoulders and onto the bed behind him. Next she divested him of his jacket, it quickly joining the forgotten cloak. But when he felt her nimble little fingers tugging at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open at the center and allowing her hands to sneak within the folds, he felt all the air leave his body. Oh, they were so gentle, yet their touch was like flames, causing him to shiver and shake as she explored her way up his chest. His own hands ached to follow their lead and before he could stop them, they too had traced the contours of her waist, heading upwards towards their ultimate destination. He was completely lost in the sensation, no longer knowing right from wrong as her lips continued to work their magic on him. Yet, just before his sinful fingers were able to cup her ample breasts, he felt her stiffen up and stop her exploration, her whole body freezing to a stone-like stillness.

"Christine?" he questioned, his mind still clouded by the lusty haze that surrounded him. He did not know if he should pull back and begin his abject apologies, or do all he could to encourage her to continue.

"Erik…" she began, pulling back and placing her delicate fingers to her lips as her eyes grew wide. "Please do not take what I am about to say personally…or read too much into it…but I think I am going to be sick!" With that she maneuvered herself off the bed and with one hand still covering her mouth and the other outstretched in front of her, she made the familiar way to the lavatory with amazing speed.

Erik was left alone on the bed, doing all he could to calm his racing heart, as well as the ache he was feeling in his lower region. He had never experienced anything so overwhelming before, not in all his thirty-one years. Erik knew it had more to do with his feelings for Christine than purely his body's chemical reaction to her nearness. For he had been around more scantily clad females in Persia and seen more of a woman's body than most Frenchmen should be allowed, yet not one of them had set his libido on fire like this innocent little Swedish girl. _His _Christine…his love.

He was brought back to reality by the heart-wrenching sound of the poor little thing expelling the contents of her stomach. For some reason it did not disgust him like he would have believed, but instead it brought forth feelings of pity and self-loathing for the part he had played in her discomfort. Jumping to his feet, he hurried into the other room to see if he could be of any assistance. It turned out that the most he could do was sit beside her, hold her hair back from her face and rub her back as she continued to retch, until at last having rid herself of the intoxicating alcohol…and whatever else she had eaten that evening.

"Let me get you a cool cloth," Erik suggested, reaching up to the sink and wetting the hand towel that hung nearby. Wringing out the excess water, he then pulled her back to lean against his chest as he pressed it to her forehead, pleased with the sigh of relief that escaped her lips due to his soothing touch.

"You know…" she began, her voice low and tired. "It didn't taste half as good coming back up as it did going down. Please, Erik…don't ever let me overdrink again."

"I will do my best to stop you, my sweet," Erik chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He sat there holding her on the floor for a long time, just letting her stomach settle and her breathing return to normal. Erik found he was enjoying this position very much and hated to have it end, yet he knew sitting on a cold floor was not the best thing for her and that they needed to rise. "Do you think you can stand up now, Christine?"

"I think so," she nodded, allowing him to assist her greatly in the endeavor. When she was vertical at last, she grabbed hold of the porcelain sink and leaned forward, steadying herself while Erik hovered beside her, ready to catch her should she fall. "I…I need to rinse my mouth," she announced, reaching out as she searched for the small bottle of minty liquid he had thoughtfully provided.

Erik guided her hand to the proper container and waited while she performed the task to rid herself of the burning taste in her mouth. When she was finished he scooped her up once more and carried her to the bed, gently laying her down on top of the comforter.

"Would you like me to fix you some tea to help settle your stomach?" he asked, eager to do all he could to make amends.

"No…I don't think I want anything right now…just you," she announced, reaching out to grasp his hand and pull him closer to her.

"Christine…I don't think that…I mean you are not…" he stammered, still a bit shaken from her last show of affection.

"No, just come sit with me," she explained. "Please hold me for a bit longer, that is all I want."

She sounded so pitiful and sincere that he did not hesitate to lift her up slightly as he sat on her bed, resting his back against the head of the bed while he allowed her to lie half on top, half beside him. Christine's arms went around his waist as her chocolate curls splayed across his chest, a contented hum coming from her lips as she shut her eyes.

Erik realized that soon Christine would be asleep, and while he knew that was what she needed, he desperately wished to ask her something and needed her to be somewhat coherent when he did. He also prayed that given her inebriated state, she might not recall him posing the question come morning, and that small glimmer of hope spurred him on.

"Christine?" he began, his throat dry once more.

"Hmmmm?" she murmured.

"I…I was wondering…I mean I wanted to ask you," Erik chided himself for his lack of eloquence, but the subject matter was causing him to stumble. "I need to know…especially after what just happened…"

"I am sorry I got sick, Erik," Christine broke in, imagining that was what he had been referring to. "But I think I am better now. I promise I will not vomit in the bed, or on you…I think."

Erik could not help but chuckle over her halfhearted vow, but that was not what he had been questioning.

"No, Christine…what I meant was…well…when you were kissing me a bit ago," he continued, allowing his one hand to trace across the one arm she had thrown over his torso.

"Yes?" Christine answered, struggling to sit up a bit as she turned her face to him. "Did...did you not enjoy it?" She then got a look of horror on her face. "Or do you now think I am some wanton woman who is promiscuous and unchaste?"

"NO!" Erik gasped, reaching up and cupping her still flushed cheeks as he did his best to dispel her fears. "I think no such thing! Your inhibitions were severely compromised and I did nothing to dissuade your uncharacteristic advances, making _me _the one who should shoulder any blame." He stopped and took a ragged and cleansing breath. "And trust me, Christine; I enjoyed it very much. Probably more than I should have."

"Then…then what is your question?" she asked, her still foggy mind struggling to understand where he was going with all this.

"I wanted to know…well, what you might be thinking will take place once…once we are husband and wife." There, he had said it. There was no taking it back now.

"What will happen? I don't think I understand what you mean," she confessed, doing all she could to focus on his voice.

"Do you imagine that we will…share more kisses like that?" he continued, his face turning a deep shade of red beneath his mask. "That there will be more…touching…and that you might consent to a true marriage with me…one where we might share…_a bed?"_ He almost choked over that last word, silently cursing Amir for putting the idea into his mind in the first place. Erik knew he would be perfectly willing to enter into a strictly platonic relationship with Christine, if that was _her _desire…yet deep down he prayed for more. Still, voicing such things out loud was not doing much for his fledgling confidence and he felt himself holding his breath as he waited for her answer.

"Erik, it never crossed my mind that your proposal was for anything _but_ a true marriage," she began, still sounding a bit unsure about the reason for his question. "I do not know how the Parisians engage in such unions, but in Sweden a husband and wife share everything…including a marriage bed. Do you not wish to partake of that particular aspect of married life with me? Do you not see me as a complete woman and think that because I am blind that I am not capable of fulfilling my role in that capacity?"

"GOD, NO! I am not saying that at all!" Erik almost shouted, the absurdity of it practically bowling him over. "I am apparently saying this all wrong, but I swear by all I hold dear, _that_ is not what I meant!"

"Then…then you do want to…to engage in such activities once we are wed?" she questioned, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes.

"Oh, Christine…if you only knew how much I desire such things, you would never dare come near me again," he groaned, shutting his eyes for a moment as he fought back another wave of unquenchable lust. "Your kisses are like heaven to me, and as for touching you… I can't even begin to describe how much I long to feel your glorious skin beneath the palm of my hand, as well as feel you touching me in return." He stopped there and took a few ragged breaths. "Yet…I would never dream of daring such sinful things before we are officially wed, and even then only with your express permission. It is true that I burn for you, Christine, but if it be your wish, I would confine my wicked nature and never dare to taint your purity in any fashion. But the true fear I hold, is that _you_ would never desire to engage in such activities with _me_. I have in no way understated my hideous appearance, Christine. I am not a handsome man and my body, I fear, is no less scarred than my face – my enemies through the years have seen to that. I do not wish to repulse you with my form and any close _physical_ contact would quickly reveal to you just how monstrous I truly am."

"Erik, no!" Christine scolded, laying her head back down on his chest as she enveloped him in her arms, doing all she could to demonstrate the pleasure she derived from touching him. "You are _not_ monstrous or hideous! You are Erik, and I love you! No deformity or scars could ever change that for me. Somehow you have to believe me and cease worrying over something that I do not care about and that I cannot even see? I don't care what you look like…I only care what is in here," she patted her hand over his heart before leaning in and placing a kiss upon it as well. "I want to share my life with you, Erik. I want to share my hopes and my dreams, my joys and my fears, but most of all, I want to be a true wife to you and share…your bed." She was unable to hold back a nervous giggle as she spoke the final words, partially from the lingering effects of the Aragh Sagi and part from embarrassment. "Besides, if we didn't, how on earth would we ever have children?"

If Christine's declaration of love had not already stolen away his breath, her final words would have. And when all Erik wished to do was focus on the promises she had just made of sharing her life, dreams and expression of physical love with him, instead the only thing he could think about now was… _children! _ Did Christine just say she wished to have children with him? He was fully aware that the production of such little creatures was often the byproduct of marital congress and yet…_did he even dare?_ Any child sired by him would run the considerable risk of inheriting his deformity and the idea of condemning anyone to the past he had endured made him sick to his stomach. Granted, there were ways to avoid conceiving offspring, many of them tried and true methods that were passed down through the years, while others were relatively new. He could easily guarantee no such thing would occur, yet would this be pleasing to Christine? He had to know!

"Do…do you _want_ children, Christine?" Erik asked, desperately hoping that she would say no.

"Of course I do," she was quick to assure him, taking his hand in hers. "I might have had dreams of becoming a famous singer, but I have always wanted to be a mother. I have often imagined having maybe three little ones…but four would be nice as well, making it a nice even number."

"Four?" Erik wanted to die.

"Two boys and two girls," she stated matter-of-factly. "And I hope each one inherits your talent for music and immeasurable intellect. I would also love it if one of them had my mother's beautiful blond hair and my father's loving smile."

_While I would only pray that they all take after you in appearance,_ Erik thought to himself as he felt another stab of guilt.

Amir's words once more came back to haunt him…apparently women did indeed have ideas of how they wished their lives to go, and Christine was no exception. It pained Erik greatly to think that he would now be forced to deprive his darling fiancée of her wish to have not one…but _four_ little ones to call her own. He would need to quickly decide if he should confess his fears to her and hope she understood…or simply take matters into his own hands and secretly put an end to their chances to conceive. He was certain her doting parents would not approve of this new twist, probably desiring a slew of grandchildren just as much as Christine. Was there no end to the long list of ways he would be a disappointment to her? But better that, than condemn a child to his disfigurement and his gentle wife to a life of heartbreak and resentment.

"Do you know how much I love your hands?" Christine asked suddenly, breaking him out of his disturbing thoughts. She was now running her fingers over his knuckles and then turning his hand over to caress his palm. "They are such amazing things. They can be both gentle and strong, musical and caring." Her voice was beginning to fade, as sleep had finally taken hold and was dragging her down into slumber.

"They will always be at your disposal, my dearest. To show you love and keep you safe," Erik assured her, scarcely able to speak over the lump that had just formed in his throat. Here she was extolling his virtues and he was secretly plotting to take away her happiness. What kind of fiend would do such a thing?

When he finally heard her breathing even out and her body go limp, he knew she was at last asleep. Leaning his head down he kissed her ever so gently, a single tear slipping down his cheek and escaping from under his mask.

"Oh, my love…please don't grow to hate your Erik for what he must do in order to keep you. For I fear that letting you leave now would surely be the death of me." Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back and did his best to push away the loathing he now felt for himself.

Erik would keep her…he had no choice…_but at what cost?_

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Sooooooo, how did you enjoy drunk Christine?

Poor Erik...all worried about sex and kids now.

Did you catch the line from Siren of the Sea?


	34. Chapter 34

Congratulations to **The** **Resident** **Artichoke** for guessing the line from Siren of the Sea. it was "I really like Amir, did I ever tell you that? He is one upstanding fellow". Except in Siren, it was Amir who said it about Christine...when he still thought she was a HE. A few others guessed the line as well, but they were not the first one. Thanks to all who played!

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Guest Reviews:

**TheRebbs98**: Liked drunk Christine, huh? Erik is never confident of anyone's love for him. I will try and remember to give you a heads up when that chapter arrives.

**Guest**: Erik wears his tights and cape around his lair all the time. Sorry I made you blush. have a nice vacation and I will see you when you get back.

**LackadaisicalOne**: A dozen kids? Let him survive one fist and we will see what happens, OK? ha ha. They can't experience that joy till AFTER they are married though.

**Mytery**: Yes, poor Erik having a woman attack him with kisses...poor, poor, man. He was just thinking it might cost her the happiness of having kids if he was to keep her. He it just thinking to himself, i am sure it is nothing serious. ha ha.

**PhanGuest**: wow, you read fast and caught up in one day? I will not let Erik do anything stupid to his body to prevent kids. He is just fretting is all. Yes, Anna needs to spill her guts. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

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**Chapter** **34**

**Like** **a** **Moth** **to** **a** **Flame**

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Erik had sat there on her bed long into the night, just holding Christine and listening to her breathe. In such a short time he had experienced more happiness than he ever dreamed possible and yet with the realization that Christine desired children, his life now teetered on the edge of despair. There was no way he could risk fathering a child! He refused to be the perpetrator of such an affliction, and yet he knew it would come at the cost of Christine's happiness. He briefly toyed with the idea of taking in a foundling child, thinking perhaps his little bride would be content to raise some other couple's babe who was in need of a home, yet even that thought frightened him. What would _any_ child think of having him as a parent? Would it only lead to emotional scars instead of physical ones? It was all too much for Erik to contemplate and he ended up pushing such ideas to the back of his mind, to be thought of later when he could manage to be rational and think about it sensibly.

When he heard the clock strike three, Erik eased himself out from under his sleeping angel and nestled her down onto the pillow as he covered her up. He did not envy how she would likely be feeling when she woke. The Aragh Sagi tasted sweet going down, but it left you with one hell of a headache the following day…sadly, Erik knew this from direct experience. He watched her sleeping peacefully for a while before exiting the room and heading for the kitchen. There he distracted himself for a while by cleaning up her somewhat disastrous attempt at baking. A halfhearted smile touched his lips as he imagined Christine working along, never realizing that with each sip from the bottle she was becoming more and more intoxicated. She was a rather adorable drunk, he decided, and when her senses were a bit dulled she had become somewhat of a wild cat. This was something Erik might have to encourage now and then after they were married. Yet the moment he thought of their supposed future, his mind once more returned to the idea of having children and he was right back to his state of depression.

Once the kitchen was clean, he made his way to his room, eager to get some much needed sleep. A few nights ago he had lain awake thinking only of her and the idea that she had actually said yes to his proposal. Yet, tonight he knew sleep would elude him for another reason…one that burdened his heart and troubled his mind greatly.

.

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Christine's head was throbbing when she at last opened her eyes. Even after being deprived of her sight for almost two months, it still shocked her each time she was greeted by nothing but darkness. However, today that was the least of her worries, for the queasy feeling in her stomach and the pounding in her head was taking precedent. Why in the world did she feel so terrible?

"Good morning, Christine," Erik's soft voice was heard off to her left, making her turn quickly towards the sound.

That turned out to be a huge mistake, for the sudden movement brought on a new wave of nausea and increased the splitting pain in her temples. Oh, she just wanted to die! Letting out a pitiful moan she shut her eyes and pulled the covers up over her head, praying that the world would just go away.

"I see that the Aragh Sagi showed no more mercy on you than it ever did with me," Erik said with a chuckle as he reached out and gently pulled the comforter back, exposing her face once more. "I have made you some tea that should help both your stomach and head. Let me help you sit up so you can take it."

"I don't want to sit up," she pouted, cradling her throbbing head in her hands as she rolled away from him. "Leave me alone…I just want to lie here and die."

"Christine," Erik's voice was a bit harsher this time and even without her sight she could imagine that he was standing there beside her bed with his hands on his hips, looking at her sternly. "We talked about this. You are strictly forbidden to mention the idea of dying, and even though I am well aware that you are feeling miserable, you _will_ sit up and you _will_ drink this tea! Is that understood?"

Another low moan escaped her lips, but after a few seconds she did indeed roll over in compliance, attempting to push herself up into a sitting position.

"Fine!" she huffed. "I will sit up and drink your tea…but I don't have to like it!"

"I never inferred it was a requirement," he assured her as he took her hands and placed the cup and saucer in them. "I will also refrain from being offended by your surly attitude, seeing as how you are currently in pain and not quite yourself. See what a good fiancé I am being?"

"Oh, yes…you are a saint," Christine mumbled as she sipped at the delicious tasting tea, stubbornly refusing to show her pleasure as she drank.

"Well, I hardly think _that_ is a suitable description of me," Erik told her, once more letting loose an amused chuckle. "But since I love you very much and have had some experience with what you are going through, I promise to do all I can to ease your discomfort."

"What happened to me?" she questioned as she sat the now empty teacup down on her lap and rubbed the sides of her head with her fingers. "Why do I feel like my brain is trying to beat its way out of my skull?"

"You…you don't remember?" Erik asked.

"No…did I fall down and hit my head?" she questioned, doing her best to wade through the layer of fog in her mind. "Was I poisoned?"

"In a way," he conceded. "You mistakenly consumed quite a large amount of alcohol last night, having mistaken it for weak cooking sherry. I fear that you have, in essence, poisoned _yourself_ and the painful aftermath you are experiencing is the direct result." He reached out and refilled her teacup, once more encouraging her to drink.

"Yes…that's right…" she groaned as realization finally struck. "I was baking the cake…and then…then I don't remember anything else. Did I pass out? I don't even recall you coming home."

Erik found he was a bit torn by this news. Christine honestly did not remember what took place last night! In one way that was good, for her mention of wanting children could now be avoided since she did not recall having that conversation. Yet there was a part of him that hoped she might recall her amorous actions and wish to pick up where they had left off. Not that Erik would allow things to go as far as they did last night, yet the kissing had been very pleasurable and was something he would certainly not be forgetting any time soon.

"Yes, Christine," he answered. "I came home to find you on the floor, quite soused and rather adorable in your intoxicated state. I put you to bed and there you slept until waking just a few minutes ago."

"Oh, God, I didn't say or do anything embarrassing…did I?" She looked rather horrified at the idea and Erik once again could not help but grin to himself. _If she only knew._

"No, you did nothing that would cause you shame, my dear," he lied, knowing for a fact that she would indeed be humiliated by what she had said and done to his person as he escorted her to her room. Perhaps he would tell her someday…but that would be far into the future. _Assuming they still had one_, he was forced to conclude. "I will relate the events of how you got into such a state later when you are feeling better, but for now I think it best that you take in a little bit of dry toast and then get some more rest. The tea will aid in your recovery, but the best thing for you now is sleep. Would you like to slip into a nightgown so that you will be more comfortable while you nap?"

Christine did not wish to exert any more effort than necessary, yet her dress was feeling rather constrictive and the idea of being at ease outweighed any hesitation. Erik retrieved the preferred gown for her out of the dresser and left it across the foot of the bed as he exited the room. When she gave him leave to return he encouraged her to eat the toast he had prepared as well as a few more sips of the tea before tucking her under the blankets once again. Leaning in, he kissed her forehead gently, noting that she was already fast asleep before he shut the door behind him.

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The rest of the day crawled by for Erik, having to keep himself busy, yet unable to work on his music for fear any sound might aggravate her ailment. Thankfully the song she would perform for the festival was now complete and she had already been singing it to perfection. Erik had no doubts whatsoever that Christine would easily impress the judges, with as much as she had already astonished him. Even without any ghostly influence, he knew she was likely to take first place and secure the position of lead soprano for the upcoming season at the Opera Garnier.

Still, it might be wise for him to take some time and check out her competition. The auditions would be ending soon and rehearsals would quickly follow, forcing Erik to once more entrust Christine's safety in the hands of his assistant as he escorted her to and from the opera. He still had not formulated a plan on how he would fool the judges and conceal the fact that she was blind, but Erik knew he would need to set his mind to that problem…_and soon_. Erik had so many hopes and wishes for Christine and if he was now going to sabotage her one dream of having children, he had best see that all her others came true!

Christine emerged from her room later that evening, claiming that she was feeling better and up to having a small amount of dinner – just as long as it was not too rich or sautéed in any kind of alcohol. It was with a sallow tint to her complexion and a hand over her stomach that she once again swore to him that she would never drink again. Much to Erik's relief, Christine did not act as if she blamed him for the mix up with the bottles, even finding a measure of amusement as he filled her in on some of the things that took place last night. Granted he left out all information about their fevered kisses or any talk of children, but she seemed more than satisfied with what he _had_ told her.

After dinner he suggested a quiet night by the fire with him reading aloud to her from one of her favorite novels. When he mentioned the idea of them trying to learn the Braille letters so that she might be able to read books herself one day, Christine didn't appear as opposed to the idea as she had been when Amir first suggested it. But for now he was quite content to be her eyes and entertained her long into the night with tales of adventure and true love.

Putting Christine to bed turned out to be far less eventful than the previous night – much to Erik's dismay. Yet he was more than placated by the idea that one day, and one day very soon, he would not be forced to tuck her in and then leave the room. For if her words from last night were to be believed, his little bride would welcome him to stay and sleep beside her as he watched her all night long. Erik truly looked forward to _those_ glorious times.

It had been some time since a nightmare had plagued her dreams, but for some reason Erik could not bear to leave Christine's side that night. So once she was snuggled in, he silently took his place in the chair by her door, watching over her as the lone candle flickered on her dresser…a safe distance away.

Erik was not sure how long he sat there, completely wrapped up in his dreams of her, but he was certain that hours must have passed. He had just decided to get up and go to bed himself when Christine stirred, rolling over as she reached out to adjust the covers. Yet, when she turned to face the left side of the room she suddenly stopped, remaining frozen in such an odd position that Erik feared she might have pinched a nerve or hurt herself. He was quickly becoming concerned, but just before panic took over, he saw her sit up and toss the covers off. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she stood up and began to slowly move towards the dresser.

At first he thought she must be sleep walking, possibly having some kind of dream that caused her to act so oddly. But dream or not, Erik's breath caught in his throat as he saw her hand reach out, stretching forward as if she planned to touch the little tongue of fire resting on the wick of the candle. Without a second thought about revealing his presence, Erik bounded forth and grabbed hold of her wrist just before she would have burned her fingers, pulling them back away from the flame.

"Christine! You could have harmed yourself!" he scolded, turning her towards him as he studied her face. Was she actually awake or was she still lost in dreams?

"Erik!" she gasped, obviously startled to have him appear as if out of nowhere. She did not question his presence though; instead she began to ply him with odd questions. "What is over there? What is in that direction?" she asked, pointing towards where she had been headed moments ago.

"It is your dresser, Christine. Where your clothes are kept," he informed her, still finding her actions rather strange.

"No…what is on top of it? Is there anything else there?" her voice grew in intensity and she almost appeared desperate to hear his answer.

"The candle?" he asked, seeing nothing other than that and a few hair ribbons she had missed putting away.

"Is…is the candle lit?" she then reached out and grabbed hold of his shirt, balling her fists in the fine fabric as she pleaded for confirmation. "Is the candle burning, Erik? Please tell me!"

"Of course it is, my dear," he soothed, believing she was distressed that he had forgotten to light it and she was now left in the dark she feared so greatly. "I light one every night for you, just as you asked of me."

She was quiet for a moment, her head turning from him to the direction of the candle and back again, her mouth hanging open as if in shock or fear.

"Erik…I…I think I can _see_ the flame…I…I think I know where it is!" she confessed, her voice hardly above a whisper, almost as if she feared saying the words too loudly.

Erik was floored…_she could see?_ How could this be? Granted he had suggested when she first arrived that the effects of her injury could easily be temporary…yet it had been almost two months! He would hardly call himself a medical professional, yet if she was going to regain her sight, would it not have happened long before this?

"You can see the light from the candle?" he asked, lifting his hand and waving it in front of her eyes, not seeing any observance of the movement reflected in her eyes.

"I...I _think_ I can," she nodded. "But…what if it is just my mind playing tricks on me? I can hear it sputtering slightly…what if my brain just knows it is there and that is why I think I can see the light?" The idea that it could all be a fabrication of her mind seemed to cause her to panic, leading Erik to reach out and take hold of her by the shoulders.

"Let us test it," he insisted, maneuvering her so that she was now facing away from where the candle sat. "Close your eyes and cover your ears. I will then move the candle to another location in the room and you tell me if you can still see the flame."

With a silent nod she complied, shutting out all sound with her hands as she waited for Erik to tell her when to look. It did not take long before she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Open your eyes now and see if you can find the candle, Christine," he instructed.

Doing so, she raised her head and began to turn around slowly, her anxious eyes searching the darkness for the faintest glimmer of light. When she stopped and raised her hand, pointing a shaking finger towards the small table on the opposite side of the bed, Erik's heart dropped into his stomach.

"There!" she stated, indicating the exact location of the long taper that supported the merry flame. "Was I right…is that where you put the light?"

"Y-y-yes, Christine," he was honor bound to admit. "But let us test it again." He instantly spun her around once more, eager to see if it was all real or just some odd fluke. This time he put the candle on the small chair he had been sitting in earlier, but instead of letting it continue to glow brightly, he scooped up an empty porcelain pitcher and placed it on top, encasing the wax torch underneath. The room was now doused in darkness, though Erik's keen eyes could still see Christine quite clearly. Would she still imagine she saw the candle? So eager to believe what her mind was telling her that she would create a false light to feed her hopes? This time he stayed put, choosing instead to speak loudly in order to get her to uncover her ears as he bade her to begin her search.

Christine did just as before, opening her eyes and turning around the room, trying to pick out any hint of light in a world that was nothing but darkness. When she had made a full spin but saw nothing she began to panic. Had it not been real? Could it all have been a cruel trick?

"I…I can't see anything!" she wailed. "The light…it is gone!" Tears now began to spill out of her useless eyes as she covered her mouth with her hand to keep in the sobs.

"Try again, Christine," Erik urged. "Take one more look around the room." When she did as he said, turning away as she scanned through now watery eyes, Erik reached out and removed the pitcher, allowing the candle to illuminate the room once again. This time when her face turned towards the chair she stopped, a joyous smile replacing the look of fear that had been there seconds earlier.

"I see it! I can see a little flicker of light!" She began to walk towards it, her steps never wavering as she sought it out like a lost ship guided by a lighthouse.

Before she could reach it however, Erik stopped her, taking her into his arms as he held her to him closely. He was not quite sure what he was feeling at that moment - anxiety, elation, hope…fear? His emotions were all a mess, but when Christine reached out and hugged him back with such vigor, her small frame crushed against him, he couldn't help but feel…_joy_. Joy for her and the fact that it appeared that she would not remain blind for the rest of her life.

"Did I not tell you that your condition might only be temporary?" he reminded her, pulling her back as he looked down at her tear filled eyes. While she might have been crying, he knew it was out of pure happiness, for her lips were turned up in the biggest grin.

"I…I just never thought….I mean I wanted to…but never dared hope!" she gushed, far too excited to form a complete sentence. "Oh, Erik…do you know what this means?"

"I would say quite a few things…yet which one is in the front of your mind, my dearest?" he asked, still enthralled by her beautiful smile.

"It means I won't have to tell my parents I am blind!" she began, her eyes darting this way and that as if she were considering all the possibilities. "I will be able to cook by myself again, take walks in the city…and read! I can participate in the festival too! Assuming my eyes keep improving, I will be able to sing and act on stage! But best of all…I will be able to see you, my love! I will be able to see the man I am marrying when we say our vows! Oh, Erik… everything has changed! Simply _everything!"_

That was the moment that Erik's joy turned to utter dread. Everything _would_ change! Christine would be able to _see_ him with her own eyes, all of him…especially his face. Oh, why had fate seen clear to return her sight before they were officially wed? His darling angel was far too kind and honorable to leave him once they were bound by law, yet without those vows to hold her promise…she could leave him now at any time. Once her eyesight returned, she would have no reason to stay with him, no longer dependent upon him for aid or protection, she would be free. Yes indeed, this changed _everything!_

"I…I am very…happy for you, Christine," he stammered. And while the words turned to ash in his mouth, he had to admit that a part of him truly was pleased for her. Even if she were to change her mind and spurn him…Erik still wished for her happiness. Nothing would ever change that in his heart. She had given him so much,_ so very much_, that if it all ended tomorrow, his gratitude for the past two months would live on eternally.

At least _that_ would never change.

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WELL...there you have it. Her sight is returning. and yes, this WILL change so much.

How did you like what Erik did to test her sight?

Was he a nice fiance to help her with her hangover? ha ha

More on Wednesday!


	35. Chapter 35

**My desktop computer is officially DEAD! **

**But at least I have my back-up laptop with an external keyboard to work off of until I can buy a new one. So sad. The funeral will be held this weekend when I take it to E-Waste. In lue of flowers, please send reviews. ha ha. **

**BUT...I was smart enough to back everything up on an back-up drive, so am still in business...and with a keyboard! So you can expect longer responses and you can ask for your snippets and bonus chapters whenever you want. **

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**Please read the A/N at the end of the chapter...I hope to make you an offer you can't refuse. ha ha**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**Mystery:** Ha ha, I shocked you wither her sight returning...you KNEW it was coming, just not how and when, right? ha ha, love how you think Erik will NOT turn psycho and possessive...isn't that is M.O.? Oh if Anna knew where to find Erik she would have hot foot it to Paris in a heart beat! I too do not know how long it would have taken for mail to get from Paris to Sweden back then...so lets just pretend it does not take months...Ok?

**TheRebbs98:** Yep, she is on her way to sight recovery! Sometimes it takes a bit before the memory comes back, ha ha. Drunk Amir IS funny...MERMAIDS! (and hats) OH and did you say you wanted a heads up when Erik and Anna meet back up? If so...this is not that chapter. ha ha

**Syrianlight:** Erik and Christine DO need to talk things out, right! Ummm, yah, hangover city for Christine. I would not have let the cake incident end in too MUCH disaster. ha ha. Oh more trouble than you realize. And yes, you are a bit paranoid, ha ha. But I can understand why with as many twists and turns as I have tossed your way. With her sight returning, things ARE looking up for the festival, right?!

**Guessst:** You know, the drink MIGHT have had something to do with it...or it was just a coincidence that it happened right after it. Who knows. Ha ha, everyone is so worried about Raoul...but he is a bit of a pesky fly type person, right. Buzzing around, not realizing he is causing irritation. ha ha.

**PhanGuest:** You are very welcome - I love responding to your wonderful reviews! Of course Erik dreads her seeing his face...that is just typical Erik thinking. Her mom will totally endorse Erik...saying he is a great catch! Thanks again.

**Guest:** I enjoyed writing the tea conversation! And yes, her sight is returning. Ummm, yah, you should probably start stretching a bit...would hate to throw your back out doing that happy dance cold turkey. ha ha. If you can't get wi-fi while you are away, know that for sure it will be waiting for you when you return...but try, since the offer at the end of this chapter kind of depends on it. ha ha.

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**Chapter 35**

**Nightmares, Lullabies and Realization**

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Convincing Christine to go back to sleep that night had proven very difficult, for she was far too excited to rest…or so she claimed. Yet once Erik had coaxed her back to bed, he only had to sit beside her for a short period before she succumbed to contented exhaustion. He then left her room and spent the rest of the night in the parlor, sitting in his chair before the fireplace trying to sort out his thoughts.

When morning came and he could hear Christine begin to stir, he found he was still no closer to figuring out what he should do. But in actuality, what _could_ he do other than act happy about the situation and support her on the road to regaining her sight? He would be terrified at every step and live in utter dread of the day she could once again fully see…yet his love for her would allow him to do no less.

The next few days passed quickly, with Erik doing everything to aid Christine in her recovery, such as turning up all the gas lamps, flooding each room with as much light as possible in hopes that it would help. The way she had explained it, her sight was returning as if she were at the end of a long tunnel and only a small amount of light could be seen from that distance. But the bottom line was that she _could_ see the light, and that alone had her grinning from ear to ear.

Each morning, to Christine's infinite joy, the tunnel of darkness was growing shorter and the light at the end seemed to be brighter. By the third day she claimed she was beginning to distinguish colors! Granted they were still just fuzzy blobs, but when she asked Erik if the settee was red, and he confirmed that it was, she was beside herself with delight. The rest of the day she went around pointing out all the different colors she could find.

"At this rate I will be able to see everything in no time, right?" she asked in a jubilant fashion. They had just finished practicing her song for the festival, and even though she had performed it perfectly, it would appear her mind could only fixate on her returning sight.

"Yes, very soon everything will return to the way it was before your accident," Erik assured her, now fully convinced of that fact himself. Her progress was encouraging and every day she continued to improve.

"Oh, no, it will be better!" she corrected, feeling her way over to the piano bench and sitting down beside him as she laid her head against his shoulder. "I will not only have a greater appreciation for the world and all its wonderful sights, but I will also have _you_ to enjoy it with me. I know I was terribly upset when it first happened and I might have slightly overreacted at the beginning." She stopped there and hung her head, obviously still ashamed by her thoughts of death being preferable to living blind. "But since it was my accident, and subsequent blindness, that brought me to you…I will never regret a moment of it. Not ever!"

Erik was touched by her words and they went a long way in soothing the terror that had been steadily rising inside him. Yet those fears once more took front row as she turned to him and began to run her fingers up his chest, feeling her way towards his face.

"Christine…" he said in a warning tone, never comfortable with anyone's hands near his mask. He reached up and secured her wrists in a gentle grip, halting her progress.

"I just wish to see you, Erik," she insisted, her lip sticking out in an adorable pout.

"You _have_ seen me…with your hands," he countered. "Nothing has changed."

"But soon I will be able to see with my eyes again," Christine pointed out. "Will you still deny me sight of the man I am to marry, even then?"

Erik gave a heavy sigh and bowed his head, knowing that all his little angel had to do was ask and he would give her the world. He would grant her this as well…_just not yet._

"My face is a pitiful sight to behold, Christine, even _with_ clear vision," he began, doing his best to stall the inevitable. "I would not wish to inflict it upon you when your eyesight would only add to the distortion, making it ten times worse. Please be patient, my dearest…for my sake."

"Of course, I can wait if that is what you want," she assured him with an understanding smile. "I would never wish to make you feel uncomfortable. But know this…nothing I see will ever change how I feel about you, Erik. I love you just the way you are."

Unable to resist, he leaned in and placed a kiss of gratitude on her pretty pink lips, savoring the warmth he found there. Change was never something Erik had enjoyed, especially when he felt he had at last found contentment. He recalled the last time he had felt joy in his life, and how that too had been cruelly ripped from him. Yet in that small amount of time, Erik realized that Anna had planted a seed – one which had grown considerably with Christine's patience, understanding and love. Maybe monsters _could_ have happy endings? Dare he believe so? Still, he couldn't help but wish that things could have remained just as they were, leaving him deliriously happy. Yet, little did Erik know that the recovery of Christine's sight was only the beginning of the winds of change.

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Erik had not been sleeping well at all, his mind unable to shut out the fears that had been mounting and that night he was wracked with fitful dreams. There were memories from the past, torments he had faced, but mostly the all-consuming idea that he was losing Christine. That she was slipping farther and farther away from him as her sight continued to return. The dream culminated with Christine standing before him, completely healed, and asking him to remove his mask and show her his face. In his dream he begged her to reconsider, to not ask such things of him, yet she stood fast, demanding that if he loved her he would let her see. In the end Erik relented, much as he had done when she asked to touch it. Yet instead of her being understanding, like before, this time she pulled back, cringing in fear as he slipped away the mask to reveal his death-like head. Her screams were soon mingling with his own as he begged her not to leave him, reaching out with arms that found nothing to hold on to as she began to retreat farther and farther from his grasp. He knew his cries had morphed into broken sobs but he could not stop himself as he fell to his knees, mourning the loss of the only romantic love he had ever known.

"Erik! Wake up!" came his angel's voice, breaking him from the nightmare's hold. He sat up, gasping for air as he did his best to decipher what was real and what had all been a horrible, horrible dream. When he saw her sitting there on the edge of his bed, wearing only her cotton nightgown and a concerned frown, he immediately reached out and wrapped his arms around her, holding on for all he was worth.

"Are…are you really here?" he asked, his words coming out in hoarse gasps.

"Shhhh, I am here," she assured him, placing one hand on his back as she smoothed down his hair with the other. "It was just a bad dream…nothing more. Everything is fine now…I am here."

Those words alone had the power to calm him as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal and his breathing became even once more. He did, however, refuse to let her go for quite some time, allowing her healing touch to act as a balm for his frayed nerves and raw emotions. It was then that he suddenly realized he was not wearing his mask – the few hours he slept being the only time he permitted himself to be without his protective shield. It took him a moment to convince his panic stricken mind that it didn't matter. For without any light in the room and Christine's eyesight still uncertain, there was no danger that she could see him and be frightened by it. When Erik felt he could at last detach himself and remain in control, he did…but with great reluctance.

"How…how did you know…" he began, not quite sure how to pose his question.

"I heard you calling out," she answered, often knowing his mind better than he did himself. "You were saying my name and shouting as if you were being hurt…so I followed the sound and found my way here." She then turned her head, attempting to recognize anything in the darkened room around her. Yet the lights had long since been extinguished and she was once more surrounded by blackness. "I…I have never been in your room before," she told him in a shy voice. "I hope you are not upset that I barged in uninvited…but you seemed like you were in such distress. There was no way I could allow you to suffer if I could help ease your mind."

"And you did…_you do,"_ he assured her, running his shaking fingers down the side of her face. She was such a dear…so kind, so caring - something he had never expected to find twice in his miserable lifetime. "Just your mere presence can banish the shadows and leave only sunshine."

"What were you dreaming about, Erik…what had you so upset?" she questioned, hating the idea that he had been troubled by anything.

"It…it was nothing…just a foolish nightmare, nothing more," he answered, doing his best to minimize its importance. "It is gone now and you are here. Nothing else matters."

"I will always be here, Erik. Whenever you need me," she assured him. Then a smile appeared on her lips as she added, "And probably many times when you _don't_ need me as well. I am sure after we are married there will be days when you are so sick of having me under foot that you will gladly seek out Amir for some male companionship, just to be rid of me."

"Never!" Erik vowed, knowing it had more to do with him not tiring of her company than the unsavory idea of willingly spending time with Amir. "The first thirty-one years of my life spent without you have been quite unbearable…I do not wish to spend another moment away from you for the remainder of it, however long that proves to be."

"I am very glad to hear you say that, for I feel the same way," she laughed, once more leaning forward and snuggling into his eager embrace. "Would you like me to sing to you, to help you get back to sleep like you have done for me on so many occasions?" she offered after a few moments of silence.

"I would enjoy that very much, Christine," Erik smiled, relishing any opportunity to hear her golden voice.

"Then lie back and get comfortable and I will do my best to inspire only good dreams," Christine instructed.

"You have, and always will be, the best dream any man could wish for," Erik assured her, doing as instructed and laying his head back against the pillow. Even in the dark he could see Christine's face darken with color at his compliment.

"I will share with you a song my mother used to sing to me whenever I had a nightmare or was troubled. She often told me that her own mother sang it to her as a child, so it must have been endowed with magical properties to ease one's mind and allow them to sleep," she informed him as she positioned herself more comfortably on the edge of the bed, sitting up straight as she began her song.

It took all of three words before Erik recognized it as the very one Anna had sung for him on numerous occasions. The first time being the day she had seen his face…the day she had introduced him to the wonderful world of music. That song had been one of his happiest memories, the tune and words always causing a feeling of contentment…of love, to overtake him. Down through the years, at the gypsy camp especially, he had run that song over and over in his mind, that tune and words allowing him to keep a tenuous hold to his sanity. Later, during his travels, he had looked for sheet music to it, searching for anything he could find as a tangible connection to Anna and his memories of her, yet no one anywhere seemed to have ever heard it. Every music store, every fair and festival he came across he inquired about it, only to receive blank looks and disappointing answers. Leaving Erik to conclude that it must have been a family song, one passed down to each generation, yet never written out or published. It had been _Anna's song_…something he had imagined she might have sung to her own child, had she lived long enough and miraculously been blessed with one.

Erik remained still…not daring to even breathe as he listened to Christine weave a heart wrenching memory for him. And as she did…he began to let something tease at his mind, something that he began to believe he must have been utterly foolish not to have realized sooner. Anna had told him she was Swedish and that she left her home country to sing in Paris. Christine also hailed from Sweden and she had come to Paris with dreams of following in her _mother's_ footsteps…of singing on stage in Paris. As he let his mind drift back, there had been so many things about Christine that had reminded him of his beloved Anna; phrases, gestures, the mention of the rose biscuits and even her merry laugh had often caused him to recall those few short months his nanny had been a part of his life. _Could it be?_ Was it possible that Christine was related to his Anna? A quick mental calculation confirmed that her age could easily make it possible, assuming Christine had been born a year or so after Anna's parting.

As Christine continued to sing, her tone and pitch an exact duplicate to Anna's rendition of the lullaby, Erik began to believe more and more that this was no mere coincidence. Yet he would not allow himself to be fully convinced without one final piece of the puzzle. So with his heart beating wildly in his chest he waited for her to conclude her song. On one hand, not wishing for it to end, while the other part of him needing to know if he was right. When at last she finished, ending on the sweetest note ever heard, Erik took a deep breath and began the inquiry that could change his life.

"That…that was beautiful, Christine," he complimented. "You say your mother taught you the song?"

"Yes, she sang it often while I was growing up," she told him with a smile, one prompted by her own pleasant memories.

"What was…I mean, what _is_ your mother's name…if I might ask?" he was able to choke out at last, his future now hanging on her next words.

"Anna," Christine answered easily, not knowing just how much this information cut him to the bone. "And my father's name is Charles. I suppose that is information you should know for when they arrive," she mused, thinking that was the reason for his question, yet it could not have been farther from the truth.

At the mention of her name, all the air left Erik's lungs and he felt the blood drain from his uncovered face. _Anna._ His Anna was Christine's mother. It all seemed so surreal, almost too farfetched to believe and yet…he did! There was no denying it now, the evidence was insurmountable. His fiancée, his Christine, was the much beloved daughter of Anna Silberg and the man she had apparently married named Charles Daae. Her hair and eyes Christine must have inherited from him - yet her smile, her laugh and her undeniable spirit of compassion was everything he remembered of Anna and more. Erik did not know what to say, he did not even know what to think…so he did the only thing he could. He stalled for time.

"I believe your song did the trick, my dear," he told her in the calmest voice he could muster. "I am very tired now and I do not wish for you to catch cold sitting here in bare feet. It would be best if you returned to your own room now."

"Are you sure that your nightmare will not return?" she asked in assurance.

"I am certain I will not be plagued by such visions again tonight," he said, knowing that a whole new set of worries and concerns had now taken their place. "Shall I escort you back to your own room?" he offered.

"Don't be silly, there is no sense in both of us being out of bed. I found my way here perfectly well, I can find my way back just the same." She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against his lips, never noticing how he did not return the gesture. "I will see you in the morning, my love." As she shut the door quietly behind her, she did not hear him whisper a broken-hearted reply.

"That, my dear Christine, is exactly what I am so desperately afraid of."

.

.

The following day was wrought with frustration for Erik. While Christine skipped around, happy as a lark about her newfound ability to see blurry shapes, as well as colors, he wallowed in self-doubt about what he should do now. Should he tell her? He _had_ mentioned his old nanny to her once, though never by name and not in great detail. Would she even believe him if he did? So while he pondered over his next course of action, he did his best to glean information about her parents, disguising his curiosity as merely a wish to be more informed about them when they arrived.

He learned that her mother's maiden name was indeed Silberg and that she had been married once before. Yet, Christine informed him that the union had been a sad one and that her mother never spoke of it, not even revealing her former husband's name to her own daughter. This left Erik to believe he probably knew more about the events surrounding the break up than Christine. When he offhandedly questioned her about the time between her mother leaving her former husband and marrying Charles, it appeared that Anna had never talked about working for his mother…_or anything about him._ Erik did not blame her for this, for while it pained him a little that she would choose to keep silent and make no mention of him, he could see how she might easily have wished to forget that particular time of her life. He had never doubted the sincerity of her promise to come back for him, yet time and tide wait for no man, and circumstances could have easily prevented any attempt being made. It caused him to wonder if after going back to Sweden, as Christine told him she had, if Anna might have thought of him half as much as he had thought of her. For during the time he had been locked in a gypsy cage, being displayed for paying customers in every town or village, Anna had been on his mind constantly. He never guessed that she was safely back in her homeland with a loving husband and a child of her own on the way. Yet, still…Erik clung to the hope that she still thought of him every now and again, perhaps a regretful but happy smile crossing her lips at the memory.

_Oh, Anna, how many times I have wished to see you once again and thank you for all you did_, Erik thought to himself. Yet, little did Erik know, that directly above him in the Opera Garnier, the very person he was thinking about waited with an anxious and worried look on her face..

.

.

Amir had just left Monique's dressing room, having had a very entertaining visit with the lovely dancer after her practice for the day, and was walking down the hall when he heard someone mention Christine's name. Instantly curious, he bypassed the turn that led to the exit and instead made his way towards the sound of the voices coming from the manager's office. Once outside the door he positioned himself in the best location for eavesdropping.

"Of course we have seen your daughter, Christine!" Monsieur Debienne stated, sounding very proud of the fact. "Her audition was stupendous! We were only too happy to inform her that she would be put on the schedule to perform at the festival."

"Then she_ was _here?" Anna Daae gasped, wishing to confirm his words for fear that she was hearing only what she so desperately wished to. "What did she look like? Can we be sure it was really her?"

"We had no reason to believe she was anyone other than who she claimed to be," Poligny assured them. "And from what I recall, the girl did bear a striking resemblance to you both. Blue eyes, chocolate curls down to her waist and now that I have met you, Madame Daae, I can certainly see where she got her stunning beauty," he complimented, taking note of what a fine figure of a woman Anna Daae was, even at her advancing age.

"When did you see her?" Charles was quick to ask, drawing the flattering man's eyes away from his wife. This was nothing new, for men were often drawn to his Anna, due to her beauty as well as her appealing nature – he had grown used to it, but that did not mean he had to like it.

"I would have to look at the audition list to be sure, but I believe it was somewhere in the range of two weeks ago," he answered, looking to Poligny for confirmation.

"That sounds about right," he nodded, then turned a worried eye towards the couple in their office. "Why all these questions…has something happened to the Mademoiselle?"

"That is exactly what we are attempting to discover," Charles Daae explained. "We have not heard a word from her in over a month. The last communication we received from her was a telegram explaining that the claim that she had been killed in a barge explosion was all a misunderstanding. After that…_nothing_. Not one word!"

"You were told she had been killed?" this news upset Poligny very much.

"Was this accident by any chance the one involving the pleasure barge sailing down the Seine?" Debienne asked, recalling the incident well.

"From what we were informed, yes," Anna nodded.

"Then the information was indeed false, for that accident took place over two months ago and I can assure you that your daughter was quite alive when she auditioned for us," the manager said matter-of-factly. "I do recall she was suffering from a twisted ankle though and needed the assistance of her cousin to get on and off the stage. Perhaps you should question him about her whereabouts, for I would assume he would know more."

"Cousin?" Charles asked, looking even more worried than before. "Christine has no family here in Paris and certainly no _cousin_ she might have enlisted to aid her. Who was this man? What is his name and where can we find him?"

"Again, I am at a loss as to what to tell you. I did not catch the gentleman's name and I am afraid it was not offered." He then turned to his desk and began to rifle through some papers until he found what he was looking for. "Here is the only contact information we have on your daughter, Monsieur Daae. She gave this as her place of residence when she checked in after first arriving in Paris." He then handed the worried man the paper to examine.

"We have been to this location and were told that she no longer lived there. That all her things were confiscated by the police, and now apparently misplaced, when she was presumed dead," Charles lamented, feeling no closer to knowing what had become of his little girl.

"That is strange indeed," Poligny pondered. "Since this is the only address we have on file for her, it would be the only place we mailed her audition notice. Thus, it would stand to reason that she must have received it there."

"Yet the landlord claims not to have seen or heard from her since the accident," Anna contradicted, becoming more and more upset by the minute. "Still, you say she arrived right on schedule and in the company of some strange man claiming to be her cousin?"

"I do have to admit this all sounds rather bizarre," Monsieur Debienne agreed, shaking his head. "I just do not know what else to tell you, other than she assured us that she would be back when rehearsals start in a little over two weeks." He then leaned in a bit closer to Charles, placing his hand next to his mouth as if to shield Anna from what he was about to say. "Could perhaps the young girl have found herself a paramour? Possibly staying with this young man and not bothering to notify you of this? It would hardly be the first time a desperate young lady succumbed to the offerings of a rich Frenchman."

"HOW DARE YOU!" Christine's father yelled, taking a threatening step forward. Charles Daae was not a young man by any means and he was not what you would call overly muscular, but it was easy to see that he was still a force to be reckoned with. "My Christine is not _that_ kind of girl and she would never lower herself in such a manner! She has morals...she has integrity and she would never do something as sinful as align herself with a man outside of marriage!" Yet even as he voiced his words so strongly, a small part of him began to fear that perhaps something of that nature may have occurred. And heaven help the scoundrel if he ever got his hands on him!

"Please forgive me, Monsieur!" Debienne begged, stumbling backwards until he bumped into the desk behind him. "I certainly did not mean to insult your daughter, or you! For she did indeed appear to be a lady of class when she auditioned…I…I just thought that perhaps…"

"Well you can strike that idea from your mind!" Charles growled, still wanting nothing more than to throttle the man for his asinine suggestion. Yet for the sake of his distraught wife, and their missing daughter, he took a deep breath and did his best to compose himself - speaking more calmly to the now frightened man. "You must forgive my temper, Monsieur, but my wife and I have been traveling for some time to get here, anxious for any news about our little girl, only to find more questions than answers when we arrived. Neither one of us has slept a wink in the last few days, unable to rest until she is found. We truly appreciate all the assistance you have given us, as well as your eyewitness account that she is indeed still alive and in the city. We have taken a small flat at 314 Rue de Perlet and would be ever so grateful if you would notify us the moment you hear from her."

"Of course, and please accept my deepest apologies for my offending suggestion," Debienne said with all understanding. "We will most assuredly alert you the moment we hear anything, if you would in turn do the same when you locate her. For we are very anxious that she attend the festival, seeing that she is hands down the most talented candidate to audition thus far."

"We promise, Monsieur," Anna assured him as the two distraught parents bade them farewell and headed out into the hallway. The moment the door shut behind them, Anna turned and threw herself into her husband's embrace, burying her face against his chest as she let her tears fall.

"Shhhh, Anna," Charles soothed, stroking her back as he allowed her to cry. "At least we now know she is alive…that she has been seen quite recently."

"But where is she, Charles? Why has she not tried to contact us since that cryptic telegram?" Anna asked, leaning back as she wiped her eyes. "This is not like her…not like her at all. We should never have let her go off alone! We should have come with her…to protect her."

"As much as I railed against her coming to Paris alone, we raised Christine to be a strong and self-sufficient woman and even I knew it was time to let her stand on her own," he insisted, doing all he could to remain firm in their decision…though now even he was beginning to see the folly of their choice. "We will find her, Anna, and soon she will be back in our arms."

"Oh, Charles…I am just so worried!" Anna wailed. "I…I just can't go through this again…I can't bear to lose another child like I did with…with…" she was unable to say another word and instantly gave way to tears once more.

"You cannot even think that way, Anna," her husband insisted, pulling her back and cupping her face within his strong but tender hands. "Christine is not lost to us. She is just…well, temporarily misplaced. I have full confidence that she is perfectly safe." His expression then changed to one of pure hatred. "But if some manipulative French cad has in any way caused her to compromise herself, I swear to God he will wish he had never been born!"

"Let's just pray it has not come to that," Anna said, it now being her turn to soothe her husband's ruffled feathers. "You have always been my rock when it comes to troubling times. I don't know what I would do without you."

"You will never have to find out, my dear," he promised, giving her one last reassuring hug. "Now, let us head back to the police station and tell them what we learned. Maybe by then they will have located her missing possessions like they promised. Perhaps there is something among them that could lead us to where she might be staying."

.

.

From around the corner, where he had quickly hidden himself when the couple emerged from the managers' office, Amir peeked out and watched them go. So, _those _were Christine's parents? From what he had overheard, they had apparently not received any of her most recent letters, assuring them of her safety and wellbeing…or informing them about Erik! They must have left Sweden soon after the telegram arrived, causing them to miss the delayed letter he had sent out only a few weeks before. So they knew no more than anyone else in Paris as to Christine's whereabouts, leaving him the only one privy to that information.

He also knew that when they returned to the police station they would discover that no one had been able to locate Christine's missing possessions. He knew this because the box containing all her belongings was at that very moment sitting in his parlor, having just been procured for him several days ago through unscrupulous means. He silently cursed Erik for making him sink so low as to hire a common thief to get the job done, but he was not about to handle such a risky business himself. He had a reputation to uphold and he would not rot in a jail cell for anyone…not even Erik. Amir had fully intended to give Christine's things to Erik when he had unexpectedly dropped by his house the other night. But when the masked man handed him a bottle of cooking sherry, and then left quite abruptly, he did not get the chance.

Yet right now all he could think about was getting down below and informing Erik about this strange turn of events, deciding not to wait until his weekly scheduled visit to deliver the news. He would run home, grab Christine's things and perhaps even take a quick bath. Amir could only imagine the scathing look Erik would give him if he smelled Monique's perfume on his person, immediately assuming – _and rather correctly_ – exactly how it had gotten there.

As he headed for the exit, his mind set on what he must do, something that Madame Daae had said caused him to frown. She had been reduced to tears when she spoke about the loss of another child, saying that she could not bear to go through such a thing again. Had Christine once had a sibling who tragically perished? No one had mentioned this to him, although in retrospect, if it was true, it was probably not something Christine wished to speak about.

Amir decided it was best not to ask.

* * *

**Oh come on, Amir...ASK! ha ha**

**So, did you enjoy her slowly returning eyesight?**

**The fact that it was the lullaby that Anna had sung to him that finally opened HIS eyes to the truth that had been staring him in the face for WEEKS?**

**So now HE knows, but when will he tell Christine?**

**Oh look who has come to Paris! Points to all you who thought Anna and Charles would not have waited for word, but just come running!**

**Ok, Amir...go tell Erik who is trotting around Paris looking for their daughter! Go now. Run like the wind!**


	36. Chapter 36

**First of all, I must say you all did WONDERFULLY! So many of you came out of the woodwork to review and I soooooo appreciate it. And a special thanks to _Delancey Delacroix_ for reviewing for EVERY chapter as she read from the start of the story till now... in only two days! Thus adding 35 marvelous reviews to the tally! **

**We are getting there, don't stop now! **

**Guest Reviews:**

**Lololol:** Thanks for saying so and for your review...but, yes, spam reviewing would be cheating...and I want to beat my other story fair and square. I am very competitive with myself. ha ha.

**Guest:** Yep, Anna has arrived! And Erik knows who's daughter she is! I hope your parents are not thinking you need a trip to the funny farm. ha ha. Get that happy dance going, girl!

**Khonsuthoth:** I am so glad you changed your 'never review policy' just this once...or will it be twice...three times? ha ha. I am glad they make your day better! Getting reviews from all of YOU make MY day better too!

**Ziro:** Oh what do you think of MBTM? (other than you like this one better) It is quite hard to find a new and different way to write our dynamic duo...thanks for liking them!

**Grandma Paula:** As believable as a deformed man living beneath the opera house can be...right? ha ha. OH the 'reunion chapter' will be here before you know it. I do hope I don't disappoint...it is a rather monumental moment, ha ha.

**Ann:** Hey, add an A at the end of your name and Erik will love you for life! Thanks for the pity over my dead computer. They DO tend to betray us when we need them most! I ONLY write happy endings for my darling Erik, so fear not! Thanks!

**RamKamPhan3:** Ha ha, if Erik sneaks up on any of his fans, he would only deliver a much appreciated kiss, not death by punjabbing. ha ha. And thankfully, Erik rescued me and cut me loose so I could post tonight! So HA! Foiled your plans, didn't he! But thanks for your enthusiasm over getting more reviews for me. Your heart was in the right place...even if your head was not. ha ha. Thanks, you make me laugh!

**Mystery:** Hey, Erik's face does that too! ha ha. Yep, sooooo close, but so far away. Let's see what we can do about fixing that! Anna rushing to Christine speed IS very fast!

**Guest:** Well thankfully you don't HAVE to wait for more...here it is! Thanks for your wonderful review!

**PhanGuest:** a lot DID happen in one chapter, right!? I don't think Amir would stand for keeping them worried and in the dark for long! Hmmm, COULD anyone throttle Erik and LIVE to tell the tale? Keep those reviews coming and you MIGHT get multiple chapters at once!

**Syrianlight:** Yep, mom and dad have arrived and they are NOT happy! Ha ha, oh yes, lets send Amir as the sacrificial lamb to smooth the way for Erik. ha ha. He would LOVE that. He is rather pessimistic, isn't he...Won't he be pleasantly surprised then! Yep, her sight left pretty fast, it should return with similar speed. ha ha. I wold never let things to downhill TOO badly this close to the end, ha ha. Have faith...it is always darkest just before the dawn.

**MlleNikki:** Ha ha, I feel like the Godfather! Oh yes, that song would work perfectly with that whole Manager's scene! And It WAS about time Erik figured things out...RIGHT!?

**TheRebbs98:** Yep, Erik knows! And all my ducks are in a row...I just need to start knocking them down! I am glad you are excited about the events! No, the FF site only lets you review once if you have an account, and I will only let you review once if you don't. ha ha. I want to beat myself fair and square. ha ha. But thanks for the offer!

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**Chapter 36**

**Twenty-Four Hours**

* * *

Amir continued to practice his speech as he journeyed below the opera house that evening, his voice often bouncing off the stone walls as he made his way. He didn't wish to blurt out such sensitive news as he did last time, upsetting Christine and angering Erik. Although, chances were, whatever he said _would_ offend the masked man in one way or another – that is just how their relationship worked. Yet for the sake of Mademoiselle Daae, he would do his best to be as tactful as possible, maybe even pulling Erik aside to inform him first, allowing him to help break the news to Christine.

When he arrived at the lake cavern, he squared his shoulders, shifted the box containing her belongings into one hand and rapped loudly on the almost invisible door. He waited for a moment before raising his hand to try again, but suddenly it swung open, revealing just the man he was looking for.

"Erik!" Amir greeted as pleasantly as possible.

"Daroga," Erik in turn answered, actually stepping aside as he waved his hand in an invitation to enter. "To what do we owe yet another surprise visit?"

Amir raised an eyebrow, shocked by the almost eager welcome he was receiving. It practically made him turn around and run the other way, but curiosity, and the fact that he needed to tell Erik about Christine's parents, caused him to enter…_warily_.

"I have brought the items you forgot to take with you in your haste to leave my home the other evening, as well as to deliver some very…_interesting _news," he explained.

"It would appear this week is just fraught with _interesting_ information." Erik glanced down at the box the Persian carried, eyeing it thoughtfully. "You might as well come in and share yours as well."

"Actually, I think it best I speak with you about it first," he insisted, leaning in a bit and lowering his voice. He was about to launch into his news, but was halted when he heard Christine's voice from down the hallway.

"Monsieur Amir? Is that you?" she asked.

"It is, Mademoiselle," he answered back.

"Please join me in the parlor, I have something wonderful to share with you," was her reply.

This caused the Persian to offer Erik a skeptical look, who in turn gave a reassuring nod as he gestured towards the parlor. Now _extremely_ curious, Amir headed down the hall, the box still in his hands.

"It is so nice of you to visit, Monsieur," Christine greeted him as he entered. She was sitting at one end of the settee and patted the cushion to her right, inviting him to join her.

Again, Amir looked to Erik for direction, not wishing to offend him by accepting her offer - assuming the masked man would find it distasteful if he stationed himself so close to her. Yet Erik gave another nod of compliance before lowering himself into his own chair by the fireplace. Amir set the box on the small coffee table and eased his way down, perching a bit nervously beside the smiling girl.

"As always, it is a pleasure to be in your presence, my dear," Amir began. "I must say you are looking quite well…radiant in fact. Am I to assume that being engaged agrees with you?"

"Oh, yes, I have never been happier," she assured him with a giddy laugh, blushing slightly as she turned her head towards where she knew Erik now sat. "Erik and I have already begun making plans, but many of the arrangements will have to wait until my parents can arrive from Sweden, which may take some time."

"Well…as a matter-of-fact," Amir began, wondering if he should take this golden opportunity to broach the subject, but Christine quickly cut him off.

"Why, Monsieur Amir…I do have to tell you that the color of your jacket is quite dashing today. The smoky green really complements the shades of brown in your cravat," she told him suddenly.

"Oh?" he asked, looking downward as he inspected his outfit. Serving as what the French would call his valet, Darius, always laid out his clothes for him every morning, yet he had never given any thought to how much effort the man might have put into matching colors. "Well, thank you, Christine, I had not noticed such things myself, but I appreciate you saying so." He had just finished his sentence when his eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open, staring at the girl before him, her face practically beaming. "You…you can _see _what colors I am wearing?"

"Yes!" she almost squealed, clasping her hands together in delight. "I can also see that your trousers are dark brown, possibly black, and you have what I assume to be a rather fetching bright green handkerchief in your left breast pocket. I cannot make out too many details just yet, but my sight _is_ returning, Monsieur! I can see again!"

"Oh, Christine! That is marvelous! Quite extraordinary and I could not be happier for you," Amir told her, his tone revealing nothing but pure joy over the news. "When did this happen…_how_ did it happen?"

"The other night," she eagerly explained. "I woke and when I turned over in bed I could suddenly see a small light at the far end of the room. At first I thought I was imagining it but when I got closer I found out it was a candle and I could indeed see the flame. I would have burnt my hand for sure if Erik had not prevented me from touching it." She paused there and turned a quizzical look in Erik's direction. "How did you know I was about to do that? Why were you there to stop me?"

Erik had kind of hoped she would never ask that question, having avoided that subject for fear she would find his nightly observations creepy and unpleasant.

"I…I had heard you stir and peeked in to see if you needed anything," he lied, deciding if it had not been for the presence of the Daroga, he might have told the truth and taken his chances. But he would not confess his sins so easily in front of an audience, especially one who tended to frown on many of his more _questionable_ activities.

"Oh, I see," Christine muttered, quickly accepting his plausible explanation and getting back to her story. "Erik then suggested moving the candle around the room to ascertain if I could still see it, and I could! Each day I have been able to see more and more, first only light, then colors and now shapes and objects…still very fuzzy ones, but I am sure that will improve in time as well."

"I have complete faith in that," Amir replied encouragingly. "I am extremely delighted…for both of you! It would appear that this is indeed a week filled with stupendous news." He then turned and reached for the box on the table, only to see that Erik had just picked a small wooden picture frame out of it and was examining it with an odd look in his eyes. Choosing to ignore Erik, and the item he had taken for the time being, Amir sat the box in front of Christine. "I finally managed to liberate the remainder of your personal possessions from the impound at the police station, my dear. I am sorry it took me so long and it would appear that your landlord sold anything of value, but there are a few personal items here that he did not and I hope they are of the most importance to you."

"Really?" she cried with glee, stretching out her hands as she began to feel the contents of the box, each item she touched causing a bright smile to appear on her face. "I honestly did not bring much with me, and certainly nothing of true value, but to have these back is such an unexpected delight. Thank you, Monsieur. Thank you very much!"

Amir blushed a bit at her gratitude and stumbled over his words as he assured her it was nothing.

Erik had been ignoring the conversation going on in front of him ever since he had spied the black and white portrait tucked inside the box that sat on the table before him. Reaching forward he had pulled it out, holding it in front of him with shaking hands. There, smiling back at him, was Christine - looking every inch as lovely as she always did, though perhaps a year or two younger. On either side stood her parents, and as Erik looked upon the face of his dearest Anna, he felt the years slip away and he was once again that unloved, forgotten and ignored little boy, eager for even the smallest scrap of affection. _Anna_ had given him that and so much more. She had been the first to show him he was deserving of love and that he was capable of returning such a monumental emotion…making everything he had thus far shared with Christine possible. Anna looked unchanged in Erik's eyes, perhaps a bit older, but no less beautiful than he remembered.

His attention then shifted to the man who was standing to the left of Christine in the photo, examining him with narrowed eyes as he realized that both the women he loved also shared affection for this man - as a husband or a father. _Charles Daae_… in a strange way his would-be rival. He looked to be a pleasant enough fellow, his smile was kind and his eyes held only laughter behind them…but still Erik felt a wave of jealousy wash over him. This man had spent the last two decades or more with Anna, receiving her smiles and words of comfort while he had been left sadly without. Just like he had been there for Christine as well, watching her grow into the amazing woman she now was, the woman Erik loved beyond reason. She had obviously inherited many of her father's features, such as his curly hair, nose and probably his eye color as well - all solidifying their familial bond. Erik knew he would have some very large shoes to fill if he wished to become the top man in her life now.

The ache in his heart grew larger as he stared at the family scene in his hands. He was beginning to have doubts. Not doubts that he loved Christine…oh, no, never that! Yet doubts that his love for her would be enough…that asking her to bind herself to him for all time was the right thing to do. Was it fair to her? He needed a second opinion; one he knew would not be colored by emotional bias or sentimental falderal.

Amir was the perfect specimen for that.

"Christine," Erik began, his voice steady and calm…even though he was feeling neither of these things. "Would you please excuse the Daroga and me for a few minutes? I would like to speak to him in private, if I could."

"I…of course, Erik," she began, a bit taken back by his request. Then her face softened and a sly smile sprang to her lips. "Oh…yes. Of course, you wish to speak to him alone…I understand."

Erik instantly realized that she assumed he wanted to broach the subject of Amir being his best man at the wedding – an idea she had latched onto like a dog with a bone. Still, he did not bother to correct this erroneous hypothesis, especially since it appeared it would get her out of the room without further explanation.

"Thank you, my darling," he murmured, watching as she rose to her feet.

"I will just go put my things away in my room. You two take all the time you need," she said, reaching out and picking up the box. Christine then thanked Amir once more for his kindness before she quickly counted her steps out of the room.

When Erik heard her close her bedroom door, he too rose and walked across the parlor, shutting that door as well for added privacy. What he was about to say was not for her ears…_not yet._ Not until he was able to wrap his own mind around such things and figure them out.

"Should I be worried?" Amir asked at last, watching Erik with a wary eye as he made his way back to his chair.

"What?" Erik questioned, still somewhat distracted.

"Should I now be concerned that you asked the only other witness present to leave the room and then shut the door?" The Persian was trying to sound amused, but there was a tinge of fear in his words as well. "Do you have designs on killing me at last, _old friend_?"

"Perhaps," Erik responded, finally looking up at him. "But not today."

Amir could not help but let out a pent up breath at the assurance.

"Then what is with all the mystery?" he pressed, his curiosity piqued once more.

"I need to tell you something and I want you to be completely honest in your assessment…can you do that?" Erik asked with all seriousness.

"I believe so," Amir answered, even further intrigued. Erik was never one to offer up information and even less eager to hear his opinion…so this was quite out of the ordinary.

"Do you see this woman?" Erik began, holding up the photo so that Amir could see it.

"Christine's mother?" he responded, easily recognizing her from firsthand experience only a few hours earlier.

"Anna…her name is Anna," Erik continued, giving Amir a perplexed look…how had he so easily guessed her identity? Although, she _was_ standing next to Christine in the photo, as well as the man who was obviously her father, so he figured even the dim-witted Daroga could have deduced such a thing. "While it is true that she is the mother of my dear Christine, before that…before she married this man…she was…my nanny." Having said this, he laid the photo down on his lap and folded his hands over it, waiting for the Persian's reaction.

"She was your…_what_?" Amir was quite certain he had misunderstood Erik, perhaps he had heard him wrong, or his French was not as good as he had hoped.

"Anna Silberg, now Anna Daae, was the woman my mother hired to take care of me…a job which she was loath to do herself," Erik continued. "Anna was the only one in my past who I would say was kind to me, the only one who considered me a human being and not a vile and disgusting monster. She showed me compassion, taught me about music and quite frankly saved my life…showing me that this world_ did_ harbor some small speck of light and not only darkness."

"When was this?" Amir asked, still not quite sure what to say. "How long ago?"

"When I was eight years old," he informed him. "Before I ran away, before I was taken captive by the gypsies and certainly before I followed you to Persia with the lure of riches and power. But most of all…before she met Charles Daae and gave birth to the lovely creature we all know as Christine."

"Erik…I…I do not know what to say," the Persian stammered, unable to wrap his mind around such a thing. "Not only am I stunned at the coincidence of it all, but you confiding such things has me a bit overwhelmed. What do you wish for me to say? How can I be of help in this matter?"

"I wish for you to tell me what I should do," he finished, looking up at him with a pleading expression in his eyes. "I owe this woman everything. She gave me hope when I had nothing, she gave me love when I thought I deserved none and now she has, in a roundabout way, given me the woman I desire to call my wife. Can I now repay her for this by taking away her only child and locking her up with me here in this underground prison…making her a recluse… queen of the mole people?"

Amir could not help but snort over the odd description Erik gave of Christine, yet seeing the sadness in the man's eyes, he sobered immediately. This was serious…he had to treat it as such.

"Erik…I might not be the wisest man when it comes to love," he admitted, giving a halfhearted shrug of indifference to the sensitive subject. "And even though I have been with many women in my time…I do not think I have ever felt strong enough about any particular one to contemplate marriage. You, on the other hand, have found your match, your perfect woman and even I cannot imagine a better pair than you and Christine. I know you two will have challenges and difficulties, but from what I have witnessed…I firmly believe you can triumph over them and have a true and lasting marriage. Did I not mention all this to you the other night when we spoke at my place?" The Persian then got a suspicious look on his face and added, "Were you even listening to me?"

Erik had to admit that he had not been at the time…but he would never say that out loud to Amir.

"But what about Anna? Does _she_ deserve this?" Erik persisted. "And Christine's father…what do you think he would have to say about his daughter marrying a disfigured man who is hated by the world and forced to live underground? Do you think he pictured anything like me when he dreamed of the man his precious little girl would one day choose?"

"From what I have learned, no father thinks the man his child sets her heart upon is ever good enough, so you were doomed to fail - regardless of your looks or where you choose to reside," Amir said with a chuckle. "You could be the Crown Prince of Denmark and you would still not measure up in his eyes. But what _does_ matter is whether Christine thinks you are good enough for her. She is the one you must impress…she is the one you need to convince, and from what I have seen, you have already managed that quite nicely."

"Still…it bothers me to think I might be allowing my selfish desires to dictate my actions," Erik said with a heavy sigh. "I have never been one to think of others' feelings, especially if it stood in the way of obtaining something I wanted, be it money, power or precious gems."

"Yes…I know!" Amir huffed, recalling the time he had caught Erik prying a priceless diamond from the throne of the illustrious Shah of Persia. Then replacing it with one of glass - giving no care to who might suffer, should his crime ever be discovered.

"The point being, I feel that I owe Anna a great debt," Erik persisted, ignoring the Daroga's outburst. "And even if she does not remember me, not a day has passed that I do not think of her and what she did for that poor little boy locked away in his mother's attic. _He_ owes her everything…and so do I."

Amir was silent for a moment, trying to decide how best to tell him the news he had originally come to say. It would not be as simple as saying Christine's parents have arrived…no, for now their presence meant more. _Much more. _Still, the direct approach was always best when it came to Erik…beating around the bush only served to upset him further.

"Erik…the news I came to deliver tonight has a lot of bearing on this very subject," he began, taking a deep breath. "You see…Anna and Charles Daae are currently in Paris."

"WHAT?" Erik bolted up from his chair, the picture almost slipping out of his grasp in the process.

"I was visiting Monique in her dressing room today and as I was leaving, I heard voices coming from the managers' office," he began, finally getting to the tale he had initially come to relate. "They were talking about Christine, so of course I became curious and stopped to listen. Christine's parents recently arrived in Paris and have been searching everywhere for her. They visited her old apartment, spoke with the landlord and then went to the police. No one, including Poligny and Debienne, could offer any clue to her whereabouts. They were both beside themselves with grief over her seeming disappearance, her mother was even reduced to tears."

Erik was stunned and he felt his legs give way as he sank back into his chair. _Anna was here…in Paris? _All these years he had wondered and worried about her, yet to hear the Daroga confirm her whereabouts was almost too much for him to bear. Anna was back in France…mere miles away, if even that far. While part of him longed to race above and search her out - something he knew he would have done mere weeks ago - now he hesitated. Things had changed. She was no longer _just_ his Anna…she was also Christine's parent and his future mother-in-law! He had once told his nanny he wished she could be _his_ mother instead of Suzette…the irony was not lost on him now.

"You saw her…and you say that she cried?" This part of his story did not sit well with Erik at all.

"Like I said, they have no idea where Christine is or what has become of her. They must have left Sweden before any of her letters arrived, claiming that the last communication they received from her was the telegram I sent at your suggestion." Amir did his best to bite his tongue and not place blame at Erik's feet over the fact it was _his_ delay in sending Christine's next piece of mail that surely prompted their unexpected visit. "That was the main reason for my visit today, to inform you and Christine that they are here. I thought it best that you two know as soon as possible so you can make arrangements to go above and greet them. I was thinking it might be a bit awkward for you, having to introduce yourself to them for the first time as Christine's fiancé, but seeing as how you already know her mother, things might be a bit simpler now."

"When have things ever been simple for me, Daroga?" Erik asked with a cynical laugh. "If anything, this makes it ten times worse!"

"Oh, Erik, you honestly have to be your own worst enemy!" Amir scolded over Erik's overdramatic ways.

"And here I thought _you_ held that coveted title," he smirked, his dry sense of humor peeking through even in his bout of melancholy. Amir gave Erik a withering glare, causing the masked man to stand up and straighten his jacket. "I have much thinking to do. I believe it best that you take your leave now before we both say something we will regret."

"That has never stopped us before…why start now?" the Persian commented with a wry smile, rising to his feet as well. "Yet, I refuse to leave without knowing what you plan to do. I will not sleep well knowing her poor parents are out there sick with worry over their missing daughter, while I am one of the only three people who knows the truth."

"Like I said…I need time to think," Erik growled, not liking the feeling of being pushed into a corner. "I need to come up with the best way to handle this situation…_delicately_."

"How much time?" Amir persisted.

"As much as it takes, you insufferable man!" Erik all but shouted, taking a step closer as his fingers once more itched to surround the pesky Persian's neck. Yet when Amir did not shrink back, only folded his arms and gave him a narrow eyed glare, Erik released a sigh of defeat. "One day…give me until seven tomorrow evening to sort out this whole mess."

"Twenty-four hours," Amir repeated in confirmation. "I think I can live with that."

"I am so pleased, for I would hate to see you inconvenienced in any way," Erik said with a roll of his eyes, taking the Daroga by the arm and escorting him towards the door. "In the meantime, I want you to find out where they are staying and obtain any other pertinent information you can."

"As a matter-of-fact I already…" Amir began as he was quite forcibly evicted from the underground home.

"Excellent, I am glad you agree," Erik said, cutting off anything the Daroga was planning to say. "I will look for you tomorrow evening." And without even a farewell, he shut the door in the gaping man's face, efficiently ending the conversation.

.

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Amir stood outside Erik's door for some time, doing his best to understand what had just happened. The idea that Christine's mother had once been Erik's nanny had been quite a shock and the knowledge that she was now here in the city had apparently thrown the masked man for a loop. He supposed it would indeed take Erik a while to process it all, yet he felt rather uneasy about leaving without telling Christine in person. He was not quite sure how Erik planned to handle the situation, but he knew even _he_ could not keep such a thing from her for long. And if he did, Amir would certainly see to it that the news was delivered tomorrow! So, turning around, he began the journey above, trying to fight the niggling fear that Erik might take Christine in a fit of panic and disappear into the night with her…never to be seen or heard from again.

.

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Erik made his way to Christine's room, knocking softly before entering with her permission.

"Has Monsieur Amir left?" she asked, standing up from where she was sitting by her dressing table.

"Yes, he had business to attend to, but he said he would be back tomorrow," he confessed, skirting around the truth yet not fully lying.

"Did he agree to be your best man?" she asked hopefully.

"He…he said he would think on it tonight and give me his answer tomorrow," he told her…now telling a complete untruth and feeling very badly about it.

"Good. I think it is best to get these things figured out now," Christine nodded, walking over to him and sliding her arms up around his neck. "Once my parents receive the letter I sent, I would imagine they will be on the next train bound for France and then things will begin to move rather quickly. So the more we can iron out now the better, don't you agree?"

"Yes, of course," he told her, leaning down and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Is something wrong?" she questioned, tilting her head quizzically to the side when she heard the odd tone in his voice.

"No. How could anything be amiss when you are in my arms?" Erik asked. "I just tend to be a bit out of sorts after any visit with the Daroga. He has quite an off-putting personality."

"I think you two enjoy needling one another far too much," she laughed. "And I look forward to listening to the two of you spar with your verbal banter for many years to come."

"Have I told you today how much I love you?" Erik asked suddenly.

"I might recall you saying so, once or twice," she replied with a wicked little smile. "But I would never deter you from telling me again…perhaps followed by a convincing kiss?"

Without any further encouragement Erik did just that, pressing his eager lips to hers as he infused all the love he felt into that one act. It was a long and searching kiss, one that held promises and possibilities, ending only when the two were in desperate need of air. And as he gathered her into his arms and held on for all he was worth, he wondered just what the next twenty-four hours would bring.

* * *

**They better bring you some courage and the brains to get yourself up there and relieve their worry boy!**

**So, how did you like Christine's way of telling Amir she could see?**

**Erik's little heart to heart with Amir over Anna?**

**Erik's reaction to knowing how close Anna is?**

**Him asking for 24 hours to think?**

**Erik does worry far too much...I am shocked he does not have an ulcer by now!**


	37. Chapter 37

**WHAT MADNESS IS THIS? **

**TWO chapters in one day? Has FP33 finally gone insane?**

**No, she is just happy since her new computer was shipped out today and should arrive soon! So you get a bonus chapter!  
**

**Just please, don't skip over today's previously posted chapter and only review for this one...we will never make our 'special offer quota' that way!**

**.**

**Guest Reviews: (so far)  
**

**guest:** Yes I can and I kind of already did. It is up on Kindle now for sale and as soon as I finish posting it I will be uploading it to Amazon in paperback book form. It will probably end up as BIG as MBTM...it is LONG!

**Grandma Paula:** I made sure my Erik drank lots of milk, so he avoided the ulcer problem, ha ha. Erik and Amir DO have good talks...right? Deep down they are best buds! Of course he will cry at the reunion...this is ERIK after all. ha ha. And we younger women like to take him in our arms too!

**LOVEDIT:** Yah, it is irritating, but no one can blame him for his worry. So far so good on the reviews...you all might get a mass posting near the end after all. Ha ha, loved the countdown to Erik's ulcer...he might not be so hot on the idea though. Yah, Charles will be like..."What?" ha ha.

**PhanGuest:** Erik does need to stop lying! I think he will come to that conclusion soon enough...or will he? It is kind of second nature to him now as a way to protect himself. One reunion with parents 'coming up'!

**Mystery: ** Ummm, Christine is blind...of course she is in the dark. ha ha. I think a lecture would be required after the wedding! Erik and Amir are SOOOO much bros! They just need to admit it. I look forward to the day they sit around sipping something and talking like buddies. How does THIS rate as "Erik kicking Amir out of his underground house" speed?

**Sryianlight:** No more suffering...get to the reuniting! Amir is your BFF! I would have laughed if Erik had dropped everything and left Amir standing there to run upstairs and find her. ha ha. I am glad you are willing to wait...hope this chapter helps you get closer to that magic moment. ha ha. The festival is still a few weeks away, plenty of time for a reunion with no worry about missing it.

**TheRebbs98:** Liked that Queen of the Mole people, did ya. I put that in for KittyPimms to make her laugh! Define 'Raoul bashing' ha ha. I will see what I can do. To answer your question "no". Sorry.

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**Chapter 37**

**A Journey in the Night**

* * *

Erik was plagued with nightmares that evening, but none of them were fabrications of dreams, for he never closed his eyes once. No, these nightmares were instead memories he had lived through in his past. Each and every horrible act of murder and violence he could recall dredged up and now put on display before him. Thankfully, the majority were still lost in the hazy, drug induced fog that clouded his mind back in Persia, but the ones he did remember were painfully vivid. It was those that tormented him, causing him to pace his room till the wee hours of the morning. How could he face Anna knowing he had done such things? He was not sure he could bear to see the look of disappointment on her face, should she ever learn how far he had fallen. She had told him _to __be good and never forget he was a gentleman_ – and yet he had become a killer…a monster in every sense of the word.

He knew that Christine had accepted his past and he had sworn he would spend the rest of his life showing her that he wished to change, to be a good and righteous man for her. Yet would Anna see things the same way? _Would Christine's father?_ Before, when they were just impersonal names and titles, he had not given them much thought. But now they had faces…and he feared the looks of scorn he might see on them.

_What was he to do? _

Making his way to his dresser he opened one of the top drawers and pulled out a wooden box, opening it as he surveyed the contents. It was a mask – yet not like any of his other soft leather ones – no, this one was special. He had crafted it several years ago when he had heard about the advances in the production of latex and vulcanized rubber, spearheaded by an American engineer named Charles Goodyear. It had taken him a month to get the consistency right as well as create a mold that was acceptable, and tinting it to a suitable flesh tone had proved most difficult. Still, after much trial and error, a lifelike mask had been the end product. He had hoped it would be his salvation, his way of interacting with the general public without drawing too much attention to his horrific face – and at first it had worked wonderfully. However, Erik soon realized that wearing the latex mask for more than an hour caused a severe reaction to his skin, making it even more irritated and blotchy than it already was. The itching and burning effect the rubber created was nothing short of agonizing, thus causing Erik to box up the mask and put it away, not daring to wear it again. He had heard there had been recent improvements made in the technology, but he had not bothered to try again and there was no time to do so now. Yet Amir's startling news had caused Erik to become desperate enough to pull it out and chance wearing it once again.

It was his only hope of making a good first impression on Christine's parents.

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The following morning, when the clock finally struck eight, Erik had not slept a wink, but still he did his best to make himself presentable before exiting his room. He had not made it far when he heard a cry come from Christine's room.

"Erik! Erik, come quick!" came her frantic call.

Within seconds he was at her door, pushing it open as his body tensed for battle, ready to slay whatever foe was causing her alarm. Yet instead, he saw her standing in the middle of the room, still in her nightgown and looking quite happy - smiling from ear to ear. When she heard him enter she spun around and looked at him carefully…really _looked_ at him. Her scrutiny caused him to feel uneasy and he took an involuntary step backwards, watching her cautiously.

"What is the matter, Christine?" he asked, his body relaxing somewhat now that he knew there was no danger.

"Nothing is the matter…everything is wonderful!" she announced, her smile growing even more. "Erik, I can see distinct shapes today! I can tell that is my dressing table and that is the armoire." She pointed at each one as she spoke. Then she turned to him and once more allowed her now semi focused eyes to graze over him from tip to toe. "And you, Erik…I can see you!" She walked closer, reaching out her hands - but not because she needed them to feel her way - but instead to confidently grasp hold of him. Taking Erik by the hands she held them out at his sides, as if she were inspecting him for the first time. "I always knew you were tall, but to actually_ see_ your height is quite impressive. And you appear to be a bit on the thin side as well, so as your future wife I will take it as my duty to fatten you up. I still cannot make out every detail, but Erik…I can see you! I can now find you in a room even when you are being eerily quiet, like you often are." She gave a quick laugh. "You can never hide from me again!"

Erik did not know what to say. His only thought was he was glad she was still unable to see his features clearly enough to ask to inspect his face. He knew she would do so eventually, for her sight was improving by leaps and bounds. He was just glad it had not fully returned today. He had been debating on whether to mention his flesh colored mask to her and his intent on wearing it to meet her parents, but perhaps it was best to omit such information at the moment. After all, he had little faith it would work and he did not wish to get her hopes up needlessly.

"Does…does this mean you now wish to begin cooking in earnest?" Erik asked, doing his best to divert her train of thought and alleviate some of the tension that now coursed through his body.

"Well…I might not be ready to tackle that cake again anytime soon, but I can certainly whip up some breakfast!" she announced happily. "Just let me get dressed and we will see what I can manage without creating too big of a mess for you to clean up!" And before Erik could react, Christine quickly rose on her tiptoes and balanced there long enough to give him a warm and welcome kiss. "See, I know just where to kiss you now too!" she informed him, running her fingers through his dark hair then down the side of his mask. "I think I am going to like being able to see again very much indeed." Then, with a playful shove, she ushered him out of her room so she could change in private.

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Anxiously, Amir once more made his way to Erik's abode, not having had much sleep himself the night before. He had spent the evening shadowing Charles and Anna Daae, watching the beleaguered and exhausted pair as they had gone to several shops, businesses and restaurants, showing Christine's picture and asking if anyone had seen her. It was quite heart-wrenching to watch their hopes shot down each time before they had returned to their small flat in defeat. He could only imagine they diligently resumed their search the following day, eager once again to do all they could to locate their missing girl.

Darius had been rather perplexed that Amir had hardly touched his dinner, as he instead watched the clock and waited impatiently for the time to visit Erik to arrive. He was not sure what he would discover when he got there, but he was eager to find out.

Amir did not hesitate as he pounded on the door, straining to hear any sounds coming from within the secret abode. His panic level was just starting to rise when the door slowly opened, revealing a somewhat haggard looking Erik on the other side.

"Ah, Daroga. Right on time…how unusual," he muttered, stepping aside as he invited the man in.

As Amir crossed the threshold, he noted that while Erik had attempted a sarcastic jab, all the bluster and fight seemed to have gone out of the man before him. Had something terrible happened?

"Erik…are you all right?" he asked quietly, wishing to know just what kind of lion's den he was walking into.

"Ask me that later…when this is all over," Erik sighed, looking as if his slumped shoulders were already overburdened with concern. "Christine is in the parlor…we should not keep her waiting." Then he turned and headed that way, leaving Amir to follow with a concerned frown on his face.

When they arrived, Christine was indeed waiting for them, once again a wide smile on her face. It pleased Amir to see at least one of them was in a pleasant mood, yet he kept an apprehensive eye on Erik just in case.

"I am so happy you returned, Monsieur," Christine greeted him after both men had taken a seat. "My sight has greatly improved even from yesterday. Erik says that I might have full use of my vision within a week's time! By my wedding day I will be able to see my groom waiting for me at the end of the aisle!"

"That is marvelous news indeed," Amir assured her, sounding equally happy. Yet one look at Erik and the frown returned to his face. Why did this information seem to cause him pain?

"So have you come to give Erik your answer?" Christine continued, oblivious of the mental struggles going on around her. "I do hope you say yes, for even if he will not admit it out loud, I know Erik is eager for you to agree."

"Agree to what?" Amir asked, looking from Christine to Erik and then back again. "I am afraid I have missed something."

"That can be discussed later, Christine," Erik broke in, halting the train of conversation before it derailed. "Right now, Amir has pressing news he wishes to share. Something very sudden and important has just arisen… about your parents."

This did indeed drive all wedding plans out of her head as she turned an anxious look towards the Persian.

"My parents…what about them?" she asked. "Are they all right…nothing has happened to them, has it?"

"No! Nothing like that, my dear," Amir quickly assured her, watching as she gave a grateful sigh of relief. He then shot Erik a withering look, angered that he had now put him in the position of announcing their arrival. Apparently the twenty-four hours he had asked for was not spent confessing what he had learned about her parents being in town the previous day. And it did not appear that Erik had any intention of being the one to inform her now, leaving it up to him to do the honors. "You see, Christine…I just happened to run into your parents…here…in Paris."

"What?" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand in shock. "My…my family is here? Now?"

"It would appear that some of the letters you sent did not arrive in a timely fashion," Amir began, giving Erik a glaring look before continuing. "And when the telegram you sent did not pacify their concerns, they immediately booked passage to Paris and arrived sometime in the last few days." Amir did all he could to avoid mentioning why the letters failed to arrive or that he had any knowledge about their arrival the previous day when he visited. "They have apparently been to your old apartment, the police station and the Opera Garnier in search of you."

"Oh, Erik!" Christine cried, tears coming to her eyes as she turned towards him. "What must they think? I can't imagine their worry when they arrived… only to find that I had…vanished!"

"We will quickly rectify that, my dear," he assured her, leaning forward and taking her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Amir is here to guide us to where they are staying, this very night. You will be with them soon and they will no longer have reason for worry or concern."

"He will…I mean, we are?" she sniffled, doing her best to regain her composure.

"I have everything in hand, Christine," Erik told her, offering a handkerchief from his breast pocket. "We will be leaving just as soon as the streets become less crowded. There is no need to worry."

"Thank you, Erik," Christine said with a grateful smile, dabbing at her eyes. "And thank you for your help as well, Monsieur Amir. It is deeply appreciated."

"Of…course, I am happy to be of assistance," he stammered, looking at Erik questioningly, having no idea what was truly going on.

"In the meantime, I suggest that you pack a bag to take with you, seeing as how I am certain your parents would hardly approve of you returning with me once they learn where you have been living for the past two months," Erik warned.

"Must we tell them?" Christine begged, obviously not looking forward to her father's reaction to the news. "Can't we simply say I have been staying with friends? It would not be a bold faced lie."

Erik suddenly recalled Anna's aversion to lies of any kind and how she had once warned him that it was wrong and wicked to be untruthful. The one and only time she had dared tell a falsehood to his mother, concerning her ability to bake rose biscuits, the shame had plagued his nanny to no end. No, he would not be party to deceiving Anna in any way. He already felt like a heel over the untruths he had told Christine, and he knew they had to stop…_now!_

"No…I think it best to tell the truth in this matter. They would only discover the lie eventually and I will not be the cause of you being dishonest with your parents. They deserve better than that," Erik stated firmly, referring more to himself as he said the words.

"Of course…you are right," Christine lowered her head in shame, her cheeks turning a bit pink at his gentle reprimand. "I will go and pack my things immediately, I do not wish to be the cause for delay tonight." She quickly stood and left the room, heading to do as Erik suggested.

As soon as she was gone, Amir all but pounced on Erik, eager to find out what the masked man had up his sleeve.

"What the devil has that devious mind of yours concocted now, Erik?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice low so Christine would not overhear. "What do you have planned?"

"No more than I have just stated," he replied almost painfully. "You will lead Christine and me to where her parents are staying and I shall hand over my darling angel, safely back into the arms of her loving family."

"And you? What will you do?" Amir suddenly feared that Erik had plans of dropping her off and making a run for it. Yet, from what he had observed, Erik's love for the girl would surely prevent him from doing such a foolish thing.

"I…I will do my utmost to ingratiate myself to her father and hopefully renew my past acquaintance with her mother," Erik admitted with a heavy sigh. "I wish to do this properly, in a way that will please Christine. I will thus petition her father for the right to take her hand in marriage. Though I fear things will not go as smoothly as either Christine or I hope. Parents are a whole new beast I have yet to deal with and I get the impression I will turn out to be the same for them."

"You will never know until you try," Amir stated hopefully. "Who knows…you might be pleasantly surprised."

This caused Erik to give a rueful chuckle. "I have been surprised many times in my life, Daroga…and Christine's confession of love has been the only _pleasant_ one I can recall in the past two decades. I dare not press my luck wishing for another." He then stood, looking at the Persian with a mixture of anxiety and hesitation. "I am going to ready myself as well and when I return, I would appreciate it if you did not react in any way that might alert Christine to… well…the changes I am about to make."

"Changes?" Amir was now both curious and concerned.

"I will be donning a special mask for tonight's journey," he explained. "One that will allow me to blend in a bit more with the normal crowd. Please avoid any gasps or sputtering when you see it, thus alarming Christine. I do not wish for her to know of this and thankfully her eyesight is still fuzzy enough that she will not notice on her own. Can you do this, Daroga?"

"I will endeavor to keep a straight face and a calm attitude," he promised, now quite anxious to see this intriguing new mask.

"See that you do," Erik threatened as he left the room.

.

Amir was left alone and after a while began to busy himself by looking around the room, touching things and examining books on the shelf until he heard Christine's delicate steps as she returned. Putting the volume back on the shelf he turned to see her standing there with a case in one hand and her cloak in the other.

"I am ready to go," she announced, sounding excited, yet a bit afraid at the same time.

"Erik said he had some things to prepare before we left," Amir told her. "He shouldn't be long."

Christine made her way back over to the settee and Amir politely joined her, desperately trying to think of something to converse about in Erik's absence. Yet it was Christine who initiated things by speaking up.

"You say you saw my parents? How did they appear? Well, I hope," she asked, begging for further information.

"Yes, I did see them, but I did not speak with them - thinking it was best I alerted you to their presence first and allow you to be the one to inform them of your…well…_good news_," Amir told her.

"Which news? Our engagement or the fact that I am now able to see again?" Christine laughed, obviously excited about both. "I was so dreading telling them about the barge accident and how it had taken my sight, but now…now I can assure them that all will be well."

"And Erik…what do you think they will say about him?" Amir had to admit that he was more than curious about how they would react to their daughter's chosen fiancé.

"I suspect they will be wary to begin with, I mean even I was when I first met Erik," she chuckled, thinking back to those early days alone with him in his underground home. "But I know they will quickly see the goodness I have found in him and be pleased that we are in love. It is true that my parents are overly protective, almost to the extreme, but in the end they want me to be happy…and Erik makes me very happy!"

"Erik has confided in me that he has told you of his past and what he hides behind his mask…are you certain that you can live with this knowledge?" Amir hated to ask, but he felt it would lay his latent fears to rest if he heard it directly from her.

"How Erik looks is of no importance to me, for it was his heart I came to know first. His face will simply be another part of him that I dearly love. I will not lie, however, and say that his painful and violent history was not a blow, but I firmly believe that those days are behind him. That Erik is now, and ever will be, a reformed man - bitterly ashamed of the life he was forced to lead back in Persia," Christine stated with the utmost assurance.

"I can attest to that first hand," Amir nodded sadly. "I was there the night he broke down and begged me to help him escape from the hold the Shah had over him, both mentally and physically. It had never been his intention to fall into that lifestyle…to become the puppet of a cruel and twisted man who fed off of violence and the misery of others. I curse the day I brought him before the Shah, never knowing just what he had up his sleeve once he got a look at Erik's face. That is why I risked everything to help him escape and continue to keep an eye on him now. I have always felt somewhat responsible for what they did to him and I will go to my grave trying to make amends for the part I played in his nightmare."

"You are truly a good friend to him," Christine said, placing her hand on his in an affectionate gesture. "Erik has great difficulty expressing his feelings, but deep down, he knows what you have done for him and he truly appreciates it. And one day he will find the strength to tell you so himself."

"Well, my dear, I will not hold my breath waiting for _that _day to come, for fear I perish in the attempt," Amir laughed good-naturedly. "Yet, it warms my heart to hear you say such things. You have been a blessing to him and I wish you both an eternity of happiness."

They might have said more but they heard Erik coming down the hall and quickly silenced their private conversation.

"It would appear you are ready, Christine," Erik said as he entered the room. "Are you quite prepared to serve as our guide, Daroga?"

Amir turned to assure Erik that he was indeed, but at the sight of the man before him he temporarily lost all ability to speak. Or at least he did for a moment, but unfortunately when he did regain the capacity to form words, all he managed to do was irritate Erik by doing just what he had been specifically instructed_ not_ to do.

"Merciful Allah!" Amir gasped, jerking back as he stared open mouthed at Erik's face. It was all quite surreal to see him looking…well…_ordinary_. The mask did not make him look particularly handsome but neither did he appear ugly, he just looked like any normal man you would meet on the street. If he was able to cover his deformity in such a manner, leaving him quite presentable, it made Amir wonder why he had not been wearing it all along.

"Monsieur Amir, are you all right?" Christine asked, taken aback by the Persian's startled expression.

Erik gave the gaping man a stern and threatening look, silently conveying his infinite displeasure in his ability to follow the simplest request. To his credit, Amir did pull himself together quickly, clearing his throat as he stammered out a response.

"Oh…yes, I am quite fine," he insisted. "I…I just thought I saw something…I mean…I …oh, never mind, it was nothing. Nothing at all to be concerned over. I'm afraid I am getting older and my eyesight is not what it used to be, so you must forgive my jumpy nature, my dear."

Christine stared at him with a puzzled expression for a moment before deciding to let the issue drop, figuring it was not worth further embarrassing the man over nothing. Besides, she was far too excited about the prospect of seeing her parents and introducing them to Erik.

"Did you pack enough clothing to get you by?" Erik inquired, directing her attention to him, in order to allow Amir to fully compose himself.

"I think what I am bringing will be more than sufficient until we are married and I am able to return," Christine assured him, figuring that she did not have to take all the things Erik had purchased for her. He had been rather generous and her closet was now quite full of beautiful dresses, shoes and necessary undergarments. So much so, that they would never have all fit in the suitcase he had provided for her anyway.

"Then shall we?" Erik asked, quickly helping her into the warm cloak before tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. Giving a jerk of his head, he instructed Amir to grab her case – more as punishment for his slip of the tongue – as he led them out of his house and up through the tunnels to the surface.

When they stepped out into the night air, Christine snuggled in a little closer to Erik, allowing his tall frame to shield her from the biting wind. Fall had turned to winter and there was a threat of snow coming on soon, promising to cover all of Paris in a blanket of white.

Darkness had enveloped the city and Erik felt that even the clouds seemed to be on his side as they covered the sky and blocked out the moon. Amir went first, leaving the alley by the Rue Scribe, still clutching the small case containing Christine's belongings as he checked for signs of people who might be milling around the streets. He quickly hailed a cab and signaled for Erik and Christine to join him once he had informed the driver of their odd request to drive around aimlessly for a quarter of an hour before taking them to their destination on the Rue de Perlet. The man gave Amir an odd look, but quickly agreed when he was given a hefty tip for his compliance.

Erik helped Christine up into the cab while Amir strapped the bag to the back and then climbed in himself, settling down in the seat opposite them. The journey was made mostly in silence, Christine being lost in thought and straining her eyes to see anything out the window as the glowing street lamps went by. Erik was far too nervous over the upcoming meeting to make conversation and Amir feared the possibility of saying the wrong thing and further incurring Erik's wrath. By the time the driver arrived at his round-about destination, Erik was more than ready to vacate the claustrophobic little cab, much preferring the wide open spaces and fresh air. His rubber mask had begun to bother him, just as he had expected, and the sooner this night was over the sooner he could rip it off his face and find a measure of relief.

The sidewalks were blessedly bare, no pedestrian in sight, as the cab pulled away and they crossed the cobblestone street towards the flat marked 314. At the base of the steps Amir stopped and handed Erik Christine's case.

"I believe this is where I will take my leave," he informed them. "I do not think my services are needed any further and this appears to be more of a private matter for just the two of you."

"Thank you so very much for all your help and kindness, Monsieur Amir," Christine said, reaching out as she took hold of his hand, pulling him towards her as she bestowed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I am eternally grateful for all you have done."

"It has been my privilege, Mademoiselle Christine," Amir assured her, blushing slightly at the feel of her warm lips. He gave Erik a quick glance, and while he had been scowling the whole trip, he somehow now appeared to be even _more_ irritated…if that was at all possible. Still, it was she who had kissed him, and he for one would not be bullied into feeling guilty over the kind expression of gratitude she had bestowed upon him, not even by Erik. "I wish you both luck," Amir told them as he turned and headed down the sidewalk, eventually disappearing into the night.

"Well…this is it," Christine told Erik as she grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Are you nervous?" Erik asked, seeing the almost frantic look in her eyes.

"Are you?" she countered.

"Dreadfully so," he confessed. "I have never had to meet anyone's parents before, let alone impress them. I don't even have any experience with my own in this case, seeing as my father died before I was born and my mother hated me from birth."

"Erik, I am so sorry you had such a horrible experience growing up," Christine whimpered, reaching out and embracing him tightly as she laid her cheek against his chest. "From now on, I am your family and I will never show you anything but love and devotion. I swear!"

"I know," Erik sighed, much of his trepidation melting away at her gentle words and touch. She was like a healing balm to his frayed nerves and he would have given anything to simply stay there like they were, wrapped in each other's arms. Yet the night air was not good for Christine, or her voice, and he would not risk having her get sick this close to the festival. "Come, my dear…let's get this over with."

"Oh, Erik, you make it sound more like an execution than an introduction," she laughed, though even she could not hide all her uncertainty.

"We will find out exactly which it will be in a few moments," Erik said with a sigh, taking her by the elbow and guiding her up the steps. When they stood in front of the door he took an involuntary step back, leaving Christine to be the prominent one while he effectively faded into the shadows like he preferred. She paused slightly, standing up straight and squaring her shoulders before lifting her hand to knock on the door. There was silence at first, followed by the sound of footsteps slowly coming towards the door.

This was the moment of truth…the moment that would either allow Erik's dreams to come true or dash them all to pieces.

He held his breath as the door swung open.

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**I TOLD YOU the cliffies were coming!**

**Oh my! What will happen now?**

**Will Erik's new mask (or old one, in this case) help him to put his best face forward?**

**Who will answer the door? Wouldn't it just suck if they got the wrong house? ha ha.**

**Don't forget to hit that cute little review button below...for BOTH chapters!**


	38. Chapter 38

**Who is the nicest author ever? Hopefully you say ME since I am now giving you another bonus Saturday Chapter! But...you might not like me much by the end of it *ducks and runs*  
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**Guest Reviews:**

**Mystery: ** Hmmm, maybe THAT is why Erik does not sleep...too many cliff hangers. ha ha. I both like and dislike the idea that Erik made a rubber mask (apparently Leroux started it all) but with the way it irritates him, I am going to not have him use is much - even if he fixes it. I prefer him with the white mask myself, and so will Christine. ha ha. But it can come in handy. Yah, there will be wedding and living talk later. I am posting early JUST so you can stop turning an odd shade of blue...are you a Smurf?

**Guest: ** Well the suspense is bad, but this chapter might kill you anyway, ha ha. Erik is a smart man, if there was the technology, I think he WOULD try it!

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**Chapter 38**

**Words Best Left Unsaid**

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Charles Daae sat beside the fireplace in their small rented flat on the Rue de Perlet, his head resting in his hands as he allowed the fear and despair he had kept at bay to finally wash over him. They had been searching for three days and so far no one had offered a single clue to where his little girl might have gone. Yes, it had been encouraging to hear from the managers of the Opera Garnier that she had recently been seen alive, but even that small bit of hope was wearing thin in the face of their disappointments.

Anna had done her best not to show her worry at first, but as the long days and nights had slipped by, both on their journey to Paris as well as their past few days in the bustling city, Charles had watched her begin to crumble. His wife was a strong woman, he knew this, but Charles also understood that where Christine's safety was involved, she had her limits. Just being in Paris again brought back a lot of painful memories for her, ones she had tried so hard to forget. It was here that Anna had lived the life of luxury as the Vicomtesse de Chagny before being so callously abandoned over something that had obviously _not_ been her fault. Not to mention the last time she set foot in France, it had been on a mission to rescue that little deformed boy she had taken care of so long ago.

Charles knew that Anna had never fully gotten over the loss of that child and even now he could see it plagued her greatly. He had prayed that having a babe of their own would heal her wounds, yet it had only compounded her grief in many ways. Numerous milestones in their lives were clouded by her obvious regret that they were not shared with the little boy from her past. In his place, Christine had become her obsession, as if she were trying to make up for what she was unable to give him, by bestowing twice as much on their precious little daughter. Not that Charles begrudged this, for he too was guilty of doting on her as if she were the one who hung the stars. He and Anna had never dreamed that they would have children, since he had been middle aged at the time of their union and she had claimed she was unable to conceive. Yet the day she had announced they were to be blessed by such a miracle, it was one of the happiest days of his life.

When his tiny infant girl had been placed in his arms, Charles Daae had sworn to protect, care for and love his little charge with all his heart, and he had never failed to do so…_until now_. He released a low moan as he recalled the conversation he and Anna had over the prospect of letting Christine travel to Paris alone for the audition at the Opera Garnier. Money had never been plentiful and while purchasing three tickets by rail would not have been out of the question, it _was_ an expense. Christine had argued that having them go with her when there was a chance that she would not even make the final cut for the festival was wasteful. Instead, she offered to go alone, audition first and then let them know if they should join her when she received word of her acceptance. At first Anna had been against it, not wishing for her baby to be out of her sight for such a long time and especially in such a big and unforgiving city. Yet Christine had begged them, and being the kind of father who allowed his little girl's sad and pleading eyes to sway him, he had at last relented and gave his permission. He now regretted that choice with every fiber of his being. For she had disappeared and so far nothing he had done, or could now think to do, had brought her back to them.

He was a failure as a father.

Worse yet, he was a failure as a husband as well, for nothing he said seemed to offer his wife the measure of comfort he wished to impart. She barely slept, hardly ate and was on the verge of a complete breakdown, leaving Charles no other choice but to secretly intervene on his wife's behalf. While she had been speaking with the owners of several shops on one side of the street, asking if any of them had seen Christine, he had covertly visited an apothecary. There he had procured a sleeping draught with the idea of forcing his exhausted wife to get some much needed rest. It had worked well and Anna never realized that he had spiked her drink that night, allowing her to drift off to sleep beside him on the sofa before carrying his unconscious wife to bed. He had thought of taking some himself, for he too was beyond tired, but it felt wrong – feeling that he needed to be alert in case something transpired that would require him to protect his slumbering Anna.

So there he sat, berating himself for all the pain they were now suffering at the disappearance of their Christine. Where was she? Was she hurt or scared? Who was that _man_ the managers had claimed she was with…and what might that devil have done to Christine without them there to protect her? He could feel his blood boil at the thought of some scoundrel taking advantage of her, perhaps convincing her that he could further her career or that she needed him to defend her against other men who had similar thoughts to his own. Christine had always been levelheaded, even as a little girl she had not been one to give in to threats or bullying from other children, standing up for herself and putting them in their place. Yet what experience did she have with conniving and salacious Frenchmen who had nothing on their mind but the seduction of innocent girls such as her?

That is where Charles knew he had failed at his job. _He_ should have been here to protect her!

He was not sure how long he had sat there, wiping at his tears that would not cease, when he heard the knocking at their door. It was long past suppertime, and far too late for decent people to be visiting, thus causing Charles to fear the worst. He had told the police to notify them immediately if they found anything, no matter the hour, and he felt the cold hand of fear grip at his heart as he suddenly assumed the worst.

Good news never arrived in the dead of night.

Still, he knew he could not ignore the call and he slowly rose to his feet, all the blood draining from his face as he allowed his stilted legs to carry him towards the door. With one last deep breath, allowing a final moment for hope to remain alive, he grabbed the handle and yanked it open.

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The light from the small entryway caused the silhouette in the doorway to be nothing more than an unidentifiable shadow, leaving Christine with no clue as to who now stood before her. Was it her father…or perhaps some servant who now waited in silence, expecting her to announce herself and her intentions? Without any way to know for sure, lest they speak, she cleared her throat and spoke up.

"Pardon me, Monsieur," she began, a bit shaky and unsure. "I am looking for Charles and Anna Daae. Have I perhaps come to the wrong place?"

"C-c-christine?" Charles gasped, his voice cracking as he almost collapsed out of pure relief. "Is…is it really you?"

"Father?" she asked, reaching out her hand as he grasped hold of it and pulled her into a long overdue embrace.

"Oh, my baby!" he sobbed as he buried his face against the top of her head, crushing her to him as if he would never let go. "You're alive and you are back!" he mumbled over and over again doing all he could to regain his breath. By now they were both in tears and neither one showed any signs of stopping.

Finally Christine did pull back and craned her head so as to see around him as she squinted her eyes at the room beyond.

"Mother…are you here?" she asked hopefully. "Mother? It is me…Christine," she called into the empty room.

At this Charles took hold of her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length, studying her with the scrutinizing eyes of a doting father. It took him only a few seconds to notice Christine's semi-vacant stare and the way she seemed to be having trouble focusing on his face. That coupled with the fact that she had not recognized him when he opened the door and how she was looking for her mother in an obviously empty room, led him to conclude only one thing.

"What is wrong with your sight?" he almost shouted, tipping her chin up so that her face was more in the light. "Can you not see me, child? What has happened to you?"

"I…there was an accident, Father," she began, a lump in her throat now making it hard to speak. "I was rendered temporarily blind…and I could not see anything for many weeks. But I am getting better, my sight is returning more and more each day," she quickly added, doing her best to relieve his obvious concern.

"Oh, Christine, where have you been?" he moaned, taking her in his arms once more as he began to draw her inside, reaching out to close the door. Yet before it could shut completely, a hand shot out and halted its progress, causing Charles to take a few steps back in shock.

"She has been with me," came a voice both soft and stern as Erik entered the small room.

"Who the hell are you?" Charles gasped, taking Christine by the arm and shoving her protectively behind him. The man posed a very daunting figure, quite a bit taller than Charles and seemed to not only take up the entire room, but command it as well. He was dressed in a black evening cloak, black gloves and a gentleman's hat pulled low over his eyes. Charles could make out very little of his face, but the almost catlike yellow eyes that peered from the shadowy brim caused a cold shiver to run down his spine.

"Father…this is Erik," Christine spoke up, unable to see the looks of suspicion and mistrust being exchanged between the two men. Yet, from the tension in the air, as well as her father's tone, she knew she needed to explain quickly. "He is the one who saved me after the accident on the barge that robbed me of my sight. He took care of me."

"_You_ took care of her?" Charles asked, his eyes narrowing. "Are you a doctor perhaps?"

"No," Erik answered evenly, doing his best to keep a tight hold of his nerves. The burning sensation caused by his rubber mask was becoming very distracting, but he fought to keep his answers polite and truthful. "I have had no formal medical training, but I am quite knowledgeable about the human body and how to render assistance."

"Oh, I am certain you know more about the human body than you are letting on," Charles spat, deducing that this must be the man who had been posing as Christine's _cousin_, all the while harboring a desire for more than familial ties with his lovely daughter. "Care to tell me why, if you are not a doctor as you admit, you chose to shoulder the care for Christine yourself instead of turning her over to the authorities or a hospital?"

Here both Erik and Christine grew condemningly silent, yet not for the reason Charles was imagining. Christine did not know how to answer without revealing Erik's secrets, and Erik did not wish to come across sounding like some maniacal recluse, living on the fringes of society. Nothing that either one could say would turn out well…for either of them.

"Perhaps it would be best to discuss such things with your wife present," Erik suggested, praying that Anna's company might deflect some of the suspicion now being directed at him. This introduction was going much like he had feared it would and he hoped that his old nanny's presence might lessen the hostilities.

"Yes, where is Mother?" Christine begged, looking up at him expectantly.

"She is sleeping," he informed her, not daring to take his eyes off the imposing intruder for even a second. "I gave her something to help her sleep, she has been on the verge of collapse and I began to fear for her health. She is currently in the other room, heavily sedated and unable to be roused for many hours."

Erik cursed his luck, feeling that his one ally had just been ripped from him. He knew he still had Christine willing to stand by his side, yet it would appear that her father would not allow her anywhere near him.

"Now, I have asked you why you chose to keep my daughter's whereabouts to yourself and not turn her over to the authorities, who currently believe that she is dead?" Charles asked again, and in a none-too-gentle voice. "I am still waiting for an answer."

"Father, please," Christine beseeched. "It is not Erik's fault. At first I refused to give him my full name, so he had no idea who I was and could not alert the Gendarmes."

"If he was any kind of gentleman, or a man of good character, he would have found a way!" Charles shouted. "Yet now, due to his actions, I can only conclude that he is a reprobate and seducer of young women! Have you no decency…no morals?"

"Erik _is_ a gentleman!" she scornfully insisted, not liking her father's tone at all. "He was nothing but kind and considerate to me! Never once pressing his advantage the whole time I stayed with him!"

"You…you _lived_ with him?" her father shouted; the look of pure terror in the older man's eyes was all too familiar to Erik - even if this time it was not directed solely at his face. "Christine, what has come over you? Blind or not, I thought you had better sense than to…to succumb to the immoral actions of some blackguard!"

"Monsieur Daae, you are being unreasonable and overly harsh on your daughter!" Erik growled, not at all liking the way this man was speaking to his angel. She had done nothing wrong and he would not stand by and allow her character to be maligned by anyone, even her own father. "If anyone is to blame for your worry over her absence, it is me, but I will not have you casting an ounce of suspicion on her impeccable character!"

"_You _will remain silent! I do not wish to hear you speak another word, you scoundrel!" In the back of his mind, Charles knew he was overreacting, but the past weeks of worry and fearing the worst was now pushing him past the edge of reason. "How will I explain this to your mother, Christine?"

"Mother will understand!" Christine shouted at her father, tears welling up in her eyes at his harsh words. "She will listen to reason, where you apparently only wish to jump to conclusions. Please, Father, we did nothing wrong! Erik took care of me, he kept me safe and saw that I was fed and clothed, when I would have otherwise been tossed out on the street! He is a good man…and I love him!"

"DO NOT SAY SUCH THINGS!" Charles was now completely aghast, unable to believe his own ears. "This man has bewitched you, manipulating your mind into thinking that you owe him your affections and devotion for the scandalous things he has done to you! What kind of man takes in an innocent girl and ruins her reputation by housing her under his roof without the benefit of marriage? I will tell you what kind…a reprobate!"

"I warned you once not to speak of Christine in that manner!" Erik seethed, taking a threatening step closer to the furious man. "I would never dream of ruining her in any way, let alone her reputation!"

"Father, Erik's home is completely secluded, no one even knew I was staying there!" she began, and then recalling that there were a few that did, she amended her statement. "Well, Amir and Victor knew, but they would never tell anyone."

"Completely secluded? That makes it even worse!" Charles cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "And you claim that only two others knew of your whereabouts? Who might these other men be…this Amir and Victor? More cads bent on seeing my precious daughter defiled and left in disgrace? Did they hang around in hopes that this _monster_ here would grow tired of you and willingly whore you out to his friends?"

Charles' cruel words not only caused Christine to pull back in shock, but it was the very last straw for Erik as well. He had been fighting his inborn tendency to strike out the entire time, but now there was no holding him back. This man might be her father and someone he had originally been determined to impress and befriend, but he would not stand idly by and allow _anyone_ to say such horrible things about his darling Christine! With a roar of rage he leapt forward, grabbing the older man by his lapels and slammed him against the wall, knocking several items off a nearby shelf in the process.

"You dare to insinuate such a thing?" he hissed, bringing his masked face dangerously close to Charles. "Your daughter is perfection itself, the epitome of grace and propriety and you would speak such foul accusations in her presence? I would rather rot in hell for all eternity than to bring reproach upon her in any way!" Erik's hands begged to reach up and wrap themselves around the man's neck, applying just the right amount of pressure needed to hear that snapping sound that indicated death. "You were right to call me a monster, Monsieur, for you have no idea what atrocities I have committed or what I am presently capable of! Yet, speak one more word against your daughter's pristine character and I swear I will not be held accountable for my actions!" He was not sure what might have happened next. Would he have fallen back into his old ways and ended the man's life over the slight he had inflicted upon him and his love? Erik did not know, and thankfully he was stopped before he could find out.

"Erik?" Christine's voice cut through the haze of rage that had engulfed him momentarily.

His body had automatically gone into defensive mode, attacking the one person in the room who served as a target for his anger. The mask, meant to hide his shame, was now literally burning his skin, his body tense and on edge while his mind was in a state of shock at what her father had just accused them of. All those things had caused his baser instincts to override his good intentions and he had struck out like a cornered serpent, fangs bared. Yet one word from Christine had brought him plummeting back to reality and the horror and shame that overtook him at the idea that he had been seconds away from inflicting harm, and perhaps taking a life, shamed him to the bone. This was not some leering gypsy with a whip in his hand or a bloodthirsty Shah from far away Persia…this was Christine's father! She would never forgive him if he were to harm one hair on the man's head. Stepping back he released his hold and allowed the stunned man to stagger to the side as he steadied himself by grasping the back of a nearby chair. Erik stared down at his hands, looking at them as if they were already covered in her father's blood.

What had he almost done? He really _was_ a monster!

Charles stood there, doing his best to catch his breath as he contemplated the scene before him. He knew he had been way out of line over what he had just said, his degrading accusations now tearing at his heart as he looked from his devastated daughter to the man who had so violently come to her defense. At that moment, Charles was unsure who was the villain here - this Erik fellow…_or himself?_

"Christine," Erik began, looking from his hands to her searching eyes, praying with all he had that she had not been able to see what he had almost done. He was ashamed and mortified by his actions and he knew without a doubt that he could no longer stay here. He had to go...he had to get out! Stepping forward he ran his shaking fingers down the side of her cheek, relishing the feeling of her gentle touch as she reached up and cupped his hand with her own. "I…I am sorry," he whispered. "Please forgive me, my angel." Then with one last apologetic glance at her stunned father, Erik turned and fled the house, leaving the door swinging open from the force of his exit.

"Erik?" Christine called, not knowing what had just happened. "Erik! Erik, come back!" She began to stumble towards the door, feeling the chilling breeze against her face as she tried to follow him. She did not see the small table in front of her however and ran into it, causing her to cry out in pain as she fell to the floor, overturning it on her way down.

"Christine!" Charles hurried to her side, pushing the wooden piece of furniture aside as he reached out to cradle her in his arms.

"Where is Erik?" she cried, grabbing hold of her shin that had struck the table and attempting to rise. "Erik!" she continued to call, but no answer came.

"He is gone, my dear," Charles informed her as he helped her to her feet and positioned her in a nearby chair before going to the door to shut out the cold. As he did, he spotted the small bag sitting on the steps and brought it inside. When he turned back around he saw that his daughter had dissolved into tears, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shook violently. "Please don't cry, Christine," he begged, kneeling down in front of her. "I am here and you are safe now."

"You ruined everything!" she shouted, pushing on his shoulders in an attempt to get him away from her. "Erik is gone and it is all your fault!"

"Christine, please…" he began, not sure what to say. "Listen to me; everything will be all right now that he is gone. You are back with us and that is all that matters." This time he reached out and captured her hands in his own, pulling them forward and placing a gentle kiss on the back of each one. "You will never have to see that man again, I will see to it. And no one need ever know where you have been staying, not even your mother. We will forget this all happened and you can come home with us to Sweden and everything can go back to exactly how it was."

"NO! I don't want to go back with you…I want to stay here!" Christine argued, doing her best to free her hands from her father's embrace. "Erik is my home now…I love him!"

"Oh, my precious one, you only _think_ you love him," Charles continued, attempting to keep his voice steady and reassuring. "You have never had any experience with men…not really. You do not know what love is and it is not your fault that this Casanova had convinced you otherwise. Innocent girls such as you can easily be tempted by flowery words and insincere promises." He paused there and looked at her with searching eyes. "Please tell me that's all it was…there was nothing else, was there? No…touching or…_more_?" Yet when Christine turned to answer him, he cut her off. "No…don't tell me, I don't want to know! No matter what, we still love you, Christine. Just come home with us and I will fix everything."

"Stop! Nothing you can do or say will ever fix this!" Her eyes grew wide as a sudden realization hit her. She had no way of finding Erik, no way of contacting him now that he was gone! She knew he lived underground…_but where_? She had no street names, no address and no one to guide her back to his loving arms. He was completely lost to her unless he returned on his own. And at that moment she had a sinking feeling that was the last thing he intended to do after how horribly her father had treated him. The tone in his voice, as he had spoken to her, had been full of remorse and regret, sounding exactly like a final farewell. Her heart cried out in pain at the thought of never seeing him again and she knew she could not survive the loss. Crumbling back into the chair her tears began anew, yet this time a million times harder.

"I am sorry, Christine, I never wished to see you in pain." Charles was suddenly unsure how to deal with his distraught daughter. Anna was usually the one who handled emotional situations like these. He leaned forward and moved to wrap his arm around her in an attempt to offer comfort. "It is just that you appear out of nowhere with a man I do not know and you claim to…to _love_ him? How was I supposed to react?"

"Like a father who trusts me!" she yelled. "Instead you accuse me of…of…" she could not even repeat the things he had said and she turned her head away in disgust. "Erik is a good man and he came here tonight to ask you for my hand in marriage! Now he is gone and it is all your fault!"

"He…_what?"_ Charles was stunned. His eyes slowly fell to stare at her left hand, seeing the ring that rested on her third finger for the first time. "Marriage?"

"That's right! That _scoundrel_, as you called him, who saved my life and took care of me for the past two months asked me to be his wife, and I said yes!"

"Christine…I didn't know…I…" he stammered, feeling about an inch tall at the moment. Oh, why in the world had he sedated his wife, for if Anna had been awake, things would not have gone so horribly wrong. She was always the voice of reason, the one who would calm his temper…he could have really used her gentle spirit five minutes ago. "Please, let's talk about this…let me make it up to you."

"How? Can you tell me where Erik has gone?" she accused. "Can you find him for me and bring him back?" When he remained stoically silent she pressed on. "I didn't think so! You and mother have sheltered me from the world my entire life, and the one time I try and spread my wings and dare to find love, you shoot me from the sky and throw me right back in that gilded cage! Well I am not a little girl anymore and I know what I want. I want Erik and I will move heaven and earth to find him again, and nothing you can say will stop me!" Suddenly she was beyond tired and all she wanted to do was break down in tears, but not in front of her father again. She did not wish to be his _little girl_ anymore, one he felt the need to comfort and fix her problems for. She was a grown woman now, and she would govern her own fate. "I can't even bear to be in the same room as you…I wish to be alone!"

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and sadly nodded his consent. There was no way she would forgive him tonight, no matter how he begged for it. It was best they all went to bed and dealt with this situation in the morning, when heads were clearer and Anna would be there to mediate this whole mess. Resolutely he helped her up and guided Christine to the spare room. He handed her the little bag he had rescued from the porch, leaving her alone as he shut the door behind him. Charles then waited in the hall for a few moments, listening just in case she changed her mind and called out to him…but all he heard were heartbreaking sobs.

_What had he done?_

_._

_._

Erik was not sure how long he had wandered the darkened streets of Paris before making his way back down to his underground lair, but his body ached, his eyes were swollen and his heart felt as if it had shriveled up and died. The moment he had escaped the Daaes' rented flat he had ripped the rubber mask from his face and shoved it in his pocket, not caring if anyone on the darkened street saw him. Heaven help anyone who dared to approach him in such a foul and desolate mood, for they would not have been long for the earth, that was sure.

When he finally stood in his own parlor and looked around the room, each item that Christine had ever touched seemed to mock him, inciting memories he did not wish to dwell upon. But still, he turned and walked towards Christine's bedroom door, slowly pushing it open and stepping inside. Why was he torturing himself like this, he wondered as he began to circle the room, letting his hand glide over the things that had been left behind.

Ribbons lay discarded on the dressing table, a misplaced shoe peeking out from under the chair and one or two dresses still hanging in the opened armoire that she had claimed she would be back to use after the wedding. _Their wedding_…what a joke that was now. How could he ever hope to marry her after what he had done? He had come dangerously close to killing her father in a fit of murderous rage! Even if she, by some miracle, still agreed to the union, there was no way in hell her parents would give their consent.

Erik stepped forward and ran his hand up and down the velvety sleeve of one dress that hung there, looking as lonely and forgotten as he felt. Taking it off the hanger he clutched it to him, burying his unmasked face in the fabric and inhaling deeply. It still smelled like her and the wave of grief that overtook him was swift and debilitating.

Christine was gone. Lost to him forever!

Erik stumbled over to the bed, grasping onto the bedpost with one hand for support while he gripped her dress to his chest. The tears were flowing free now and he curled himself into a ball at the foot of her bed, not daring to rest his deformed face anywhere near Christine's pillow. He was not worthy to lie upon such a thing, the very place she had slept every night, dreaming of happiness. He had always been willing to be her servant, an obedient dog eager to please her in any way, it was only fitting that he curl up at the foot of her bed like the mangy cur he was.

The tears gave way to heart-wrenching moans and the only thing that kept Erik sane, was the thought that his darling angel was with his beloved Anna once more. That and the scent of her that continued to cling to the dress that she had once worn…the one he now clutched for dear life.

It was going to be a very long and bitter night.

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***FP33 runs and hides* Don't shoot the messenger! And remember I gave you THREE chapters in two days!**

**And while I am sure we are all ready to punjab Charles...please take into account that he WAS in a lot of mental stress and worry. Horrible things were running around in his mind - thanks to that terrible thought the managers put in his mind about his daughter with some man! And he WILL be very sorry...so try not to hate him too much. Remember he is a good guy, who just had a momentary laps of sanity. (This will not drag on...FYI)**

**Well now...what will happen next? Will Erik come back? Will Christine find out how to find him? She does not know where he lives or the last names of ANY of his friends. Oh dear...what to do!**

**Feel free to use your 'snippet cards' or you 'post early card' if you have them! Don't want to get to the end of the story and never have spent them. ha ha.**

**OH and I was listening to "All I Ask Of You" the other day and if you imagine it is Erik and Christine singing, and that she is blind, it really takes on a whole new meaning! Go check it out!**


	39. Chapter 39

**Well this is totally unheard of...FOUR chapters in TWO days? **

**You all have PhantomChristine to thank for this chapter, for she just used her coveted 'post early' card for this one! So everyone say thank you to her!  
**

**Please, please, make sure you reviewed for all four chapters though - and don't skip one or we might never make the "mass post quota". OK? Erik will promise to stop lying and worrying so much if you send in your reviews!**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**PhantomChristine: ** I don't know why, but when you said "I hope kids grow on Erik" all I could think of was them actually GROWING ON Erik. ha ha. Like little sprouts. ha ha. And Christine wants FOUR, so he better just learn to live with it. Nope, the last letter they got was her telegram saying she was not dead...but that freaked them out and they came running. And that song really means so much more when you think about Erik singing it to a blind Christine. How she wants no more darkness, how he only needs to say the word and she will follow him, to guard her and to guide her. ha ha.

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**Chapter 39**

**A Mother's Love**

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As Christine's eyes opened, still red and swollen from her hours of crying, she took note of two things. One, there was sunshine filling the room around her, allowing her newly returned vision to now make out objects and shapes even more clearly than before - and two, someone's hand was gently stroking her hair. For a split second she was filled with hope, daring to believe that Erik had returned! Yet as she rolled over and did her best to focus on the owner of the hand, she was somewhat deflated to not see his tall, dark figure, but instead a more petite one. It was her mother! Suddenly elated for a completely different reason, she sat up and flung her arms around the woman, feeling her eagerly return the embrace.

"Oh, mother!" Christine cried, her tears starting anew, yet this time they were ones of joy.

"Christine, my baby!" Anna sobbed as she buried her face in her daughter's hair. "I could hardly believe it when I woke this morning and your father told me you had returned. Where have you been all this time and what is this about you not being able to see?" As if to inspect this news for herself, she pulled the teary eyed girl away from her and cradled her face in her palms, scrutinizing her eyes closely.

"I am sure the Paris police informed you that I was working on a tourist barge, singing for the passengers, when the boiler exploded, casting me overboard and into the Seine. I must have hit my head, for when I woke up…I could see nothing at all. But little by little my sight has been coming back and now it has almost returned completely," Christine assured her with a halfhearted smile. "And from what I _can_ see, you look very tired, Mother. Are you all right?" The dark circles under her mother's usually jovial eyes and the rather pale and gaunt complexion concerned Christine greatly.

"I am just fine now that you are back in my arms, my darling," Anna insisted, and the warm smile that graced her lips went a long way in comforting Christine's concerns. "I fear that I was not taking very good care of myself during your absence. With all my worrying, I had very little appetite and no wish to rest. Which caused your father, bless his misguided heart, to go so far as to sedate me last night in order to make sure I received a good night's sleep, thus missing your return." Here her smile faded and she gave her daughter a confused and uncertain stare. "What is this about you claiming to be engaged? Your father tried to explain it to me, but I fear he is far too distraught over the incident to be fully understood."

"Oh, Mother, he ruined everything!" Christine wailed, once more throwing herself into the woman's welcoming arms and burying her face against her chest. "Father was simply horrible to Erik and he…he left! He ran out into the night and I have no way of finding him! I will never forgive Father for the things he said. Never!"

"Now, now," Anna soothed, rocking her daughter back and forth like she used to as a child. "I am sure your father did not mean half of what he said, he never does when he gets angry. But please, see things from his point of view. You were missing for almost two months from what we were able to ascertain. We had no idea where you were or what had become of you. Then you show up out of the blue, with a man no less, whom according to your father you have been _living_ with all this time? Is it so impossible for you to understand how overwrought with confusion and guilt your father was? You must not condemn him for his actions when he loves you so very much, and you should not say that you will never forgive him, especially when you know that is not true."

Christine sniffled loudly, allowing her mother's gentle words and arms to soothe her temper. She was certainly angry at her father for the awful things he had said and for causing Erik to flee into the night because of them…and yet, she knew in her heart she would always love him. In the end he was her father and he deserved more than her scorn after all he had done for her growing up. Still, that did not excuse his actions and she would demand an apology…to her and to Erik!

If she could ever find him again, that is.

"I…I know you are right," she admitted at last, sitting back and wiping her eyes. "But you did not hear what he called Erik! Or what he insinuated was going on between him and I, when it couldn't have been further from the truth! Yes, it is true that I stayed with him, under the same roof, but there were extenuating circumstances. It was not as if we were living in sin…that is not how it was at all!"

"Then tell me how it was," Anna offered, running her fingers down her daughter's cheek. "Explain to _me_ what happened and why you did not let us know what had become of you."

"But I did _try_ and let you know! I wrote two letters and a telegram telling you everything," Christine spoke in defense.

"We got no letters at all! We received nothing from you after that telegram, and hot on its heels was a letter from the Paris Gendarmes telling us that they feared you had been killed in some accident. You have no idea how much this news hurt your father…hurt us both! And to be honest we had no way of knowing whether the telegram had truly come from you at all, it was so short and impersonal, so very unlike your type of writing. Yet it was all we had to go on, the only strand of hope we had that you were still alive," Anna insisted, her face once more showing the pain and grief she had been put through the past eight weeks.

"Oh, Mother, I am so sorry!" Christine hated to think of how they had worried over her disappearance. "There must have been some mix up, for I know Erik saw to it that both my letters were mailed."

"That is the second time you have mentioned this Erik," Anna remarked. "Perhaps you should start by telling me about him, since _he_ seems to be at the crux of all this confusion."

"Erik…Erik is wonderful!" Christine gushed, eager to share every amazing detail with her mother about the man she now loved so dearly. "He saved me…more than once, and I love him so completely that I know I will die of grief if he does not come back to me!"

Anna gave a sad smile and leaned in to kiss her daughter on the forehead. She could easily see just how in love her young daughter appeared to be and she only hoped this man was worthy of her child's devotion. Such heartfelt declarations reminded Anna of how it had been when she had first met and married Charles, feeling as if she had at last found her second half. And even though her husband was still rather adamant that Christine had been delusional over her professed emotions, Anna was willing to listen and give her daughter the benefit of the doubt…even if this man's name brought back a measure of painful memories for her.

"Exactly _how_ did he save you?" Anna wished to know, eager to hear the tale from Christine's own lips.

"When I was thrown from the barge during the explosion, I must have floated down river and somehow ended up on Erik's lakeshore. That is where he found me, soaked to the skin, unconscious and nearly drowned. He nursed me back to health, taking great pains to see to my recovery even if he was unable to do anything about my blindness." Here Christine looked downwards, a flush of shame coming to her face as she was forced to admit her moment of despair. "I…I fear that I was a terrible patient, Mother. I was so distraught over the loss of my eyesight that I…I told him I wished he had let me die."

"Christine!" Anna gasped, covering her mouth at her shocking words.

"I know, I know," she moaned. "It was horrible of me to think that way and I am mortified now that I had acted so thoughtlessly. But Erik would not let me give up on myself and was very firm and resolute in my care. He even yelled at me, calling me selfish and a spoiled brat. It was he who reminded me that I had people who would be hurt by my actions…people like you."

"And we would have been! So very devastated indeed!" Anna was so shaken by this news that she found herself feeling a bit light headed. To think that Christine was almost lost to them forever was a very painful blow. "It would appear that your father and I owe this Erik fellow a great deal."

"More than you know!" Christine interjected, eager to extol his virtues even more. "He also saved me from three ruffians who had accosted me on the streets one night! Single handedly dispatching them and whisking me away to safety, without even a thought to his own wellbeing! And Mother, you should hear him play the piano and sing as well. Even father would be forced to admit that he is a musical genius. He is absolutely amazing and, after meeting him, you too will understand exactly why I fell so hopelessly in love with Erik Trouville!"

Anna could not stifle her gasp of shock at hearing that name said aloud for the first time in years. She had never told Christine about her time employed by Suzette Trouville and the young boy put in her care. It had been far too painful and even Charles had known better than to bring up the subject around her. For years she had lived with the pain and guilt over losing him to the wide world that seemed to have swallowed him up. Could the Fates have now seen fit to reunite them once again? Dare she even hope it was really him?

"W-w-what did you say?" Anna was able to get out at last, her mouth suddenly going dry and making it hard to speak.

"I said I love him and I mean it!" Christine restated, mistaking the reason for her mother's odd reaction. "Please do not tell me I am too young to understand what real love is, just like Father did. I _know_ I love Erik, and he loves me. We want to get married and I would prefer to do it _with_ your blessing. But I warn you; even if you shall not give your consent…it will still not sway my decision. I will become his wife!"

"I…I have not yet made up my mind one way or another," Anna told her, doing her best to regain her composure. "I will need to know more about this young man before I make a final decision. Perhaps you could tell me something of his past, like where he comes from or how old he is." She knew that overreacting and bombarding her daughter with intimate questions was not the way to go. It would be better to let her reveal things at her own pace, thinking her mother just wished to learn the basics about this Erik Trouville.

"Erik told me that he was born here in France," Christine related, only too happy to share this information with her mother. Her father had certainly not wished to hear any of it. "He is thirty-one…but please do not say he is too old for me, for I assure you that even if he has lived a decade longer, it does not make his love for me any less true!" she was quick to insist.

_Thirty-one and born in France_…_that certainly fit the description of Erik_, Anna thought to herself. Besides that, hadn't Christine already said that this man was a musician, describing him as a genius? And yet...Charles had met him last night and said nothing about any facial deformity or if he wore a mask. Was it all just an odd coincidence? _She had to know!_ So breaking one of her own cardinal rules about telling lies, Anna quickly concocted a tale that would help her learn the truth.

"Christine, your father and I have no objections to a person's age or how it relates to feelings of love. After all, your father is several years my senior and we have always shared a very happy marriage," she began, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Yet…last night, your father said he noted something…well _different_ about your Erik's appearance. Care to tell me what that might have been?" By stating this in the vaguest terms, she knew Christine could think she was referring to anything from his height to an odd looking mustache. So if this was not truly the little boy, now all grown up and in man-form, that she was hoping it was - at least her daughter would not think her _too_ out of line. Still, she held her breath and prayed for the answer she sought.

Christine turned away, having been dreading this part of the conversation. Not because she was in any way embarrassed or ashamed of the man she loved, but she feared that this might be the one thing her parents would use as an excuse to disallow their union.

"Erik is…different, I know," she said at last. "Yet none of that matters to me, Mother! He is good and kind – everything I always dreamed a man should be. I don't care if he feels the need to hide his face! It is the ignorant people of the world who force him to wear the mask, unable to look past his deformity and see the amazing man he is inside!"

This time Anna was completely done in, unable to stop the loud sob that escaped from her throat. Standing up, she stumbled a few feet away to brace her hands against the back of a chair for support. _It was him!_ There was no doubt about it. After all these years she had finally found her Erik…or at least he _had_ been found. According to Christine, he had been chased off by her own husband, the very man who had once agreed to adopt him as his own son. Granted, the only objection he claimed to have had last night was the man's sudden and unexplained affections for his daughter…that and the terrible temper he had described. Even that only solidified in her mind that she had indeed found her lost little boy. For the Erik she knew had been prone to fits of irritability - to put it mildly - and she felt a little smile tug at her lips over the memory.

"Mother…what is wrong?" Christine begged, crawling to the side of the bed and swinging her feet over the edge. "Please tell me you do not hold a man's looks against him! Erik cannot help that he was born this way and it certainly does not make him any less deserving of love…_my love!_ For I give it freely and with full knowledge that there will be some issues because of it, some room for adjustment. Yet I am willing to put forth the effort…please say you will do the same and accept him!" Her tone had become very desperate, all but begging her mother not to be just like all the others who had passed judgment on Erik before getting to know him.

"I...I would never denounce anyone solely on the basis of what they look like," Anna stated, doing her best to keep her tears at bay. After a few deep breaths, she wiped her eyes and turned back to her distraught looking daughter. "All that matters to us is how he treats you and whether he can provide a good and stable future. However…you will need to put away your anger and speak to your father rationally if you wish for him to allow your young man back in this house. While I do not condone what he did and from what he tells me, even he admits that he spoke rather harshly to you last night. He was apparently way out of line and I will see to it that he delivers a heartfelt apology, but I beg of you to remember that he loves you more than anything in this world. You are his baby after all - and nothing will ever change that. I will do what I can to smooth things over, but dramatics and shouting will not solve anything. Can you do that?"

Christine bowed her head, suddenly feeling like a scolded little girl for the way she had screamed at her father last night – no matter how much he had deserved it. She was an adult now and this morning she would act like one…even if it killed her. She would do anything, even swallow her pride, if it meant reconciling Erik to the two people she loved most in the world.

"Yes, Mother," she nodded. "I promise I can."

"Excellent," she smiled, stepping over to where she sat, cradling her face in her hands. "Why don't you get cleaned up and dressed before joining us for breakfast? You know your father is always more amiable on a full stomach and you can tell us all about your Erik over eggs and croissants. All right?"

"Do you really think he will listen this time?" Christine asked hopefully.

"I can practically guarantee it, my dear," she replied with confidence. "Now, get changed and meet us in the kitchen." With a final kiss on her cheek, Anna left Christine to her privacy, walking out the door and shutting it quietly behind her. Whereupon she immediately collapsed against the wall and burst into quiet tears, her heart unsure how to react after such startling and joyous news. Erik had been found…and was somewhere in Paris! Yet, she had to admit, that discovering him in the company of Christine was quite unexpected. In all the time she had dreamed of his return, that was one scenario she had _not_ anticipated. If things had gone as she had planned so many years ago, Erik and Christine would have grown up as brother and sister, leaving no room in her imagination for a love affair to blossom between them. She had wanted him as her _son_…could her dream now be coming true, but in a completely different way? The irony of it all was quite astounding.

"Anna?" came a tenuous voice off to her left and she turned to see Charles standing at the end of the hall, wringing his hands in worry as he looked at her tear-filled eyes. "Is…is everything all right?"

Without warning Anna flew to his side and engulfed him in a strong embrace.

"Charles…it…it is Erik!" she revealed between a mixture of hiccups and sobs. "My little Erik has been found!"

"What?" he questioned, pulling her back to look down at her in confusion. "The little deformed boy?"

Anna could not help but chuckle at this, for indeed he was no longer little if both her husband and daughter's descriptions could be believed.

"The man who brought our daughter home to us is Erik…Erik Trouville…_my Erik!"_ she insisted in an excited voice.

"No…it can't be…" Charles stammered, doing his best to wrap his mind around her words. "I saw him…he…he looked normal." He then gave a snort of derision. "As normal as a man could be I suppose, with murder in his eyes and his hands on my person!"

"You yourself admit that you insulted both him and Christine…can you blame him?" Anna chided. "All he was doing was defending her honor…you can't fault the man for that."

"I would like to try!" he huffed back, his pride still bruised over Erik's ease in defeating him in front of his own daughter. "But how could_ he_ be your Erik? I thought you told me he wore a mask to cover a deformity on his face?"

"According to Christine…he still does," she insisted. "Perhaps it was not his face you saw at all…but another mask – one that afforded him the _look_ of normalcy. I always did say that, even as a child, Erik was a genius. Who is to say he could not create a mask that would fool even you?"

"Well he might have been able to hide his face from me, but his temper and murderous intent were crystal clear. Can you honestly say that you want such a man around our only daughter?" Charles asked in a protective tone. "What if he turned on her the way he did me?"

"A man will act in very unsavory ways when cornered or threatened. We owe it to Christine to hear _her_ side of all this…and without your jumping to any scandalous conclusions," Anna warned, shaking her finger in his face. "Our daughter is besotted with him and by painting him as a villain, you will only succeed in driving her closer to him out of loyalty. If you want Christine to respect you as a parent, you need to respect her for the smart and level headed daughter you know her to be. Let her speak and this time…_listen!_"

"Are you sure you are not willing to take him in with open arms simply because of the past you shared with him?" Charles questioned skeptically. "There is a lot of difference between a ten year old boy and a grown man – especially the man I encountered last night! A lot could have happened to him since you last saw him. Things change…_people_ change! Besides, a respectable man would have found other accommodations for Christine and not have jeopardized her reputation by allowing her to reside with him under the same roof…unchaperoned! With that in mind, do you honestly think it best to encourage this relationship to continue? Deformed or not, marriage is not an easy thing and I do not want my little girl to suffer needlessly if this is just some childish infatuation that we could nip in the bud."

"Were your feelings for me in any way silly or merely a fixation?" she asked, tipping her head to one side and placing her hands on her hips.

"Of course not! I love you with all my heart and you know it!" Charles defended himself, a bit hurt that she would even ask such a thing. "Besides, that is different! We were mature adults, while Christine is just a child. What does she truly know of love?"

"She claims to love Erik," Anna stated. "Even if I was not completely sure that this man is the boy I cared for when he was a child, I would strongly advise you not to dismiss your daughter's feelings so quickly. We can't hold her back from living her own life…no matter how much I wish we could. Did you not say yourself that you were shocked by the way she stood up to you? How she expressed herself like a grown woman and not the meek little girl who left Sweden with dreams of success? Her experience here has obviously changed her. She grew up."

"I don't want her to grow up!" Charles lamented, shutting his eyes against the pain the idea caused. "I want her to always be my little girl!"

"I think by now life has taught us both that we don't always get what we want," Anna told him sympathetically. "However, the things it _has_ given us have been pretty wonderful…wouldn't you agree?" As she said this, Anna leaned up and placed a kiss upon his pouting lips and she could feel his frustration dissipate from the contact. Even in their advancing years, the two of them had always enjoyed a very passionate relationship, finding immense pleasure with each other in conversation, company and the more intimate aspects of marriage. Just a mere touch from his wife could often alter Charles' mood, leaving him with no other feelings but contentment…now being no exception.

"Our life together has been wonderful, no doubt about it," he nodded, leaning down to steal a second kiss from her delectable lips.

"Don't you want the same thing for Christine?" Anna posed.

This unfortunately had the opposite effect on her husband, causing him to frown and his brow to wrinkle in disgust.

"I do not even wish to entertain the thought of any man with my child!" he roared furiously. "No one is good enough for her! I would rather see her a spinster-maid than the wife of some unworthy cad!"

This caused Anna to become just as uncompromising and stubborn and she once more shook a stern finger at him.

"You listen here, Charles Andrew Daae! We are not as young as we used to be and before I die I would like to know my daughter is settled with a good man with children of her own! Wouldn't you like to have grandchildren? I can't believe you deny me the joy of finally being called grandmother just because you can't see past your own fatherly pride!"

This thought seemed to give Charles pause, making him tip his head up as he gave the idea great consideration.

"And they would call me…grandpa?" he mused, a large grin spreading across his face. He stood there for a bit, allowing the notion to roll around in his mind until he looked down and saw Anna's smile of triumph. Then he sobered and did his best to return to his gruff mood. "Well…he will have to convince_ me_ of his worth first! I will not hand my Christine over to any man who does not meet _my_ standards!"

"Oh, Charles," Anna said with a heavy sigh, suddenly realizing she and Christine truly had their work cut out for them.

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Meanwhile down below the Opera Garnier, Erik was now rising as well. His night had been equally bitter and full of tears as he lamented the loss of not only his beloved Christine, but any chance of reconciling with Anna as well. He had ruined everything by attacking her father and nothing he could think to do would bring him back into their good graces.

Erik washed and dressed, using the lavatory he had allocated solely to Christine, and once more torturing himself with the sight of any object that had previously belonged to her. The towel she used, the lotions he had procured, even the small bar of scented soap lying beside the bath caused him to look away in pain. Once he was dressed, Erik vacated the room immediately, wishing to escape all thoughts of her. Unfortunately no matter where he went, there were vivid and constant reminders of the love he had gloriously found…_and lost._ As he stood in the parlor the first thing that caught his eye was the painting Christine had done, hanging over the mantle. He had originally scoffed at Amir's suggestion of a blind person trying their hand at painting, however that piece of art was now one of his most prized possessions. It was abstract, to be sure, but even without the use of her eyes, she had brought something to the canvas that had spoken to his heart. He loved every hue, every splash of color and every timid brush stroke…he loved it all.

As he turned his head he caught sight of the sculpture she had made…one of the few things that had escaped his wrath the day Christine had accidentally unmasked him. It too was abstract, yet it as well held so much meaning for him. Her own delicate hands had created the slender and curvy object, demonstrating her grace and artistic qualities through form and shape.

Yet Erik knew that her true mastery was her voice. Oh, how his little angel could sing! What he would not give at that very moment for the sound of her dulcet voice…to hear her say his name once more.

"Erik!" came a sudden call from the direction of his front door, breaking him out of his troubling thoughts. Yet it was not the voice of his darling Christine that assaulted his ears…but that of Amir. "Erik…are you home? I need to speak with you…_now!_" His plea for entrance was then followed by a heavy pounding, as the apparently frantic Persian beat his fist against the door.

Erik gave a groan of frustration as he headed down the hall. _I do not have time for this_, he thought to himself. Although, in truth he found he longed for a distraction…any distraction that would take his mind off of Christine. And while he always found the Daroga to be a pest and a nuisance…at least he was at times mildly entertaining. So yanking the door open he confronted him in a loud voice.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"I…I…" Amir began, yet it would appear that whatever he meant to say was lost in a sea of shock and dismay, for the look on his face almost rivaled Erik's spirit.

"You do not look well," Erik was forced to admit, being the closest thing he could muster to concern.

Amir stared back at him for a moment, sizing the masked man up and down before responding.

"Neither do you," he muttered. His eyes then narrowed with suspicion, his own concerns instantly set aside. "What happened? Did your visit with Christine's parents not go well?"

"At what point in your delusional life did you ever think it _would?"_ Erik fumed, feeling both humiliated and angry by the Persian's foolish question. "It went just as I expected it to…horrible!"

"Merciful Allah," Amir muttered, his expression now one of pity. "What did you do? Where is Christine now?"

"She is back where she belongs, with them. For just as I predicted, Christine's father disapproved…both of me and our feelings for each other. And before I took my leave, I lost my temper and had the insolent man pinned against the wall, ready to murder him! Do you honestly think after all that, Christine would even consent to seeing me again, much less marry me?"

"Erik…I am so sorry!" he lamented, realizing just how much pain the man before him must be in over this devastating outcome. "Is there anything I can do? Would you like for me to speak with him on your behalf?"

"It is no use…he has made up his mind and in his eyes I am nowhere near good enough for his daughter. Not that I ever truly believed I was," Erik said with a heavy sigh.

"That is foolishness and you know it!" Amir was quick to interject. "I have seen the way Christine looks at you…well…you know what I mean! She loves you so completely that I can't imagine you doing anything that she will not forgive you for. The girl knows all about your past, does she not? If she can overlook that, then I would say you stand more than a fair chance of getting her back. _If_ you are willing to try, that is!"

Erik stood there in silence, stewing over what Amir had just said. He knew the Persian was trying to help, but right now things did not feel at all fixable. Right now he only wanted to mope and feel sorry for himself.

"Enough talk about my woes," Erik said at last. "Tell me, what has led you to be standing at my door looking so dejected?" Normally he would not have cared what concerned the Daroga, but right now he wished to speak of something else...anything except Christine.

At the mention of his own sorrows Amir's countenance fell once more and the look of horror returned.

"I…I just learned that I am to be a…a father!" he moaned. "I found Monique waiting at my house last night when I returned home, and she tearfully informed me that she is…is with child. _My child!"_

Erik did not know what to say and every flippant or sarcastic retort died on his lips at the sight of the grief-stricken man. Suddenly, he felt the uncharacteristic need to provide some kind of succor for his longtime acquaintance, though in truth, he was not exactly sure how to go about doing so. In the end, he simply stepped aside and invited him in.

"Come…I will make us some tea," Erik offered

* * *

**Holy hot beverages, Batman! Did Erik just offer Amir TEA?**

**So, what did you think of Christine extolling Erik's virtues to Anna?**

**Anna figuring out just WHO Erik is...and then telling Charles what for!**

**Erik is sad, but it looks like Amir is in quite a sticky predicament! **

**WHAT WILL ALL THE MEN IN THIS STORY DO?**

**Tune in on Monday to find out!**


	40. Chapter 40

**CONGRATULATIONS to _Mandy23b_ for being the 2000th reviewer!**

**For her prize she gets a "post a bonus chapter now" card to use at her leisure! And with only 10 chapters left, I am going to bet she will use it soon! ha ha.**

**So now we are only 306 reviews away from SIB topping MBTM! I am so excited!**

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**Guest Reviews:**

(**ATTENTION:** if you only sign in as a guest, please identify yourself somehow...I had like half a dozen 'guests' and I am sure some of you are the same people, but I don't know who is who. So give yourself a screen name if you would please?)

**Ziro:** Ha ha, no, Erik never makes ANYTHING easy. The reunion is coming. I promise! You are so close now, don't give up. I am sure evil Suzette has already dried up and blown away. ha ha. Glad you like my MBTM, but I am tickled that you favor this one more. Insecure Erik is much sweeter than Semi Social Former-playboy Erik any day.

**Lovedit:** The new mask will cause issues, yes. And please define "upset our leads" because I think I crossed that line in chapter 38. ha ha. Erik and Christine are Romeo and Juliet for sure! But what say we leave out the poison and the happy dagger, OK? Not big on him drugging his wife, huh? ha ha. Sorry. Glad you liked the chapter though! Ummm, I think it will be Russian tea. But I have tried a LOT of tea and so far I hate them all. What is wrong with me? "Ballerina with Benefits"? OH that made me laugh! If Lipton was smart they WOULD sponsor us! I can guarantee that the Anna/Erik reunion will go MUCH better than him meeting Charles. ha ha. Thanks for your multiple reviews!

**Dani:** Glad you liked it. And thankfully, Monday his here and you do not HAVE to wait. ha ha.

**Guest:** Sorry your heart hurts for Erik. I KNOW he and Erik would be thick as thieves, if they would just stop and talk with each other! They both share a love for the same two women!

**Guest:** Well I for one am glad you are a HORRIBLE shot! ha ha. Just remember, if the 'mob of anger' comes after me, I can not post any more chapters if I am running for my life. ha ha

**Guest:** I think we ALL want everyone to be happy...and they will be in the end. But maybe not for THIS chapter, OK? ha ha

**PhanGuest:** You are very welcome. Chuck will indeed see the error of his ways. Erik will step up and help Amir cope. The tea will help. Agreed, her parents are a BIG part of her life, and hopefully will be to Erik as well. No way, Erik's killing days are over...well, lets not rule out a mercy killing for Amir. ha ha.

**Guest:** Yes, a sleeping Anna means woe for everyone. Wow, that is a lot of sad (and sleeping) people. I better fix this fast!

**Guest:** Happy Dance Part II has begun? Cool! Don't cry, it is a good thing she knows. Is there a room big enough for all of them to be in? And yes, Erik offered Tea!

**PhantomChristine:** No...everyone thanks YOU for spending your card! It was nice to see and hear from Anna again, she is so wise. You will learn to love Charles as well, he IS a very nice man, honest. Yah, Erik (and Amir) are kind of shell shocked here. Tea will fix everything though. Oh man, naming his kid after Erik might be a bit much, ha ha. But we will see. OH yes,, let them have bunches of kids each and they can all play together! Let's do THAT! (if that is OK with you, Erik...?)

**Mystery:** Thanks! I AM a pot-stirrer. ha ha. Love how you described Charles - "unstable and distraught, jumping to conclusions" - you might as well have been talking about Erik. Those two are like twins! *sigh and drool* loved you visual there! Yep, they are sipping beverages! Amir IS like BARNEY! (I will see if he will play Amir in the movie version of this...he might have to 'darken up' a bit to look Persian, but hey, I think he can do it.) Erik needs a neon sigh, that is how obvious it needs to be for him to believe. YES all the men DO jump to conclusions! It is a flipping epidemic!

**Guest:** That I will! Mystery Behind the Mask and Siren of the Sea are already in Kindle and book form on Amazon, Seeing is Believing will be both as well and I plan on adding The Angel of Persia as soon as I can get it re-edited and fixed. The only one I will not be making into a book is The Phantom Triumphant since it is far too ALW Play based.

**MlleNikki:** Yep, intense was what I was going for! I like to spoil my readers. ha ha. Ahh, but if Erik just blurted out "marry the girl!" do you think he would listen? I think both Erik and Charles should apologize and shake hands.

**TheRebbs98:** Oh you are NOT kidding...a LOT happened over the weekend. ha ha. And yes, I do seem to be keeping you all in suspense. But not for much longer, I promise. And I do hope it will be well worth the wait. And you asked me to give you a heads up...well this is not it, again. ha ha.

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**Holy Cow that was a lot of guest reviews! ha ha**

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**Chapter 40**

**Daddy Dearest**

* * *

Erik poured the tea into two cups and set one before the distraught Persian. The man had been hunched over the kitchen table for some time with his head cradled in his hands, moaning occasionally. Not knowing exactly what to say, Erik remained silent, allowing the preparation of the hot beverage to claim his attention. Once it was complete and there was nothing left to do, he sat down in the chair to the right of the Daroga and simply stared at him for a long time.

"So…a father?" Erik said at last, feeling rather obtuse over his stilted words.

"What am I to do, Erik?" Amir lamented, his shaking hands bringing the cup to his lips as he took a sip of the tea. "I am not ready for parenthood! In fact, I thought never to be concerned with such a thing. For years I have enjoyed the pleasures of women, both in Persia and here in Paris, yet never once has it come to this. I am too old to raise a child! How in the world did this happen?"

"If you are truly wanting a firsthand explanation on the act that led to your troubles, I fear that you have come to the wrong person," Erik said with a hint of bitterness. "I would suggest you visit with one of your _friends_ for such information."

"Friends?" Amir questioned, now looking even more despondent. "Since I have left Persia I have made no _true_ friends. Sure, I have Darius whom I can speak with, but he is my servant and not one I generally turn to about matters of this sensitive nature. I have made other acquaintances here in France, but mostly business associates, not any bosom companions with whom I might share a confidence. Normally I would go to Monique for comfort and advice, yet on this subject I fear she is the last person who wishes to hear my fears and concerns. Thus…I turned to you, Erik. For like it or not, you are indeed the closest thing I possess to a friend in this country."

This admission stunned Erik, causing him to halt his cup of tea midway to his lips. The Daroga considered him a friend? _Him?_ The news both seemed to please Erik as well as make him uncomfortable. Was he now required to profess that he returned the sentiment? He certainly hoped not, for the Persian would be sorely disappointed if so. Still…he was the only man from his past that Erik did not wish to see dead - at least not on a daily basis. And at times he had been surprisingly useful, when he was not being completely annoying. So, if pressed, it might be said that Amir was at least in the running, should Erik ever have the wish or need to acquire…_a friend._

"I…I find myself at a loss for words," Erik said at last, his cup still held in midair.

"Well then, at least something good came from this day," Amir said with a rueful chuckle. "I have managed to silence the Opera Ghost." He then focused on his own cup of tea, taking another sip as he savored the flavor. "This is quite a delightful blend, Erik. Might I ask what it is?"

"Black Russian tea," he answered, happy to see the subject being changed to a more comfortable topic. "I developed a taste for it during my travels and have it specially imported. I always favored it for the distinctive taste it offers, for it is quite good at masking the bitterness of poison, when I chose to kill that way."

At Erik's confession, Amir shoved the half empty cup away from him and jumped up from the table.

"You…what?" Amir shouted, grasping his throat with one hand as he stared down at the offending cup. "I knew you always meant to kill me! Did you see my present plight as your reason to finally go through with your homicidal scheme? This was your plan all along, wasn't it? To lure me in, lull me into a false sense of security and then poison me with your surprisingly delicious tea! How long have you been plotting my murder, you dastardly fiend?" Amir began to make a series of hacking and gurgling noises in the back of his throat, imagining that it was closing up and cutting off his air supply.

"Sit down and be silent!" Erik growled, rolling his eyes at the Persian's dramatics. "I did not poison you – although I am seriously considering doing it now! I only said the tea was good for masking the _flavor_ of poison…I never claimed to have put any in your cup!"

"Oh…so I am not going to die?" Amir asked, suddenly feeling a lot better and finding it easier to breathe.

"I am sure you will eventually, but not today and not by my hands," Erik once more assured him. "And it grieves me greatly to think that you would in one breath claim I am a friend while in the next accuse me of trying to murder you. It does not speak well of me or your choice in companions, Daroga."

Amir gave a heavy sigh and sat back down at the table, cradling his now absolved cup of tea in his hands once more.

"Forgive me…I am just…well, quite overwhelmed at the moment," Amir admitted sadly. "I do not know what to do, Erik."

As he sat there and stared at the man before him, Erik was once again struck with the urge to be…_comforting?_ He was far from knowledgeable on the subject of children and parenthood, having never given any thought to having any of his own until Christine had revealed her desire to be a mother. What advice could he offer? How was he supposed to help him sort out this dilemma? Christine had once claimed that Amir admired him, ridiculous as it seemed, and now here he was seeking counsel. So, taking a deep breath, Erik decided to do something he had never done before –offer some _helpful_ advice. Or at least he hoped it would be such. Yet first, he needed to know the Persian's true feelings on the matter, without all the doubt and fear clouding his judgment. And even though it would require some rather harsh words, he knew just the way to coax this information out of him.

"If I were you, and I thank my lucky stars that I am not," Erik began after giving a long and exasperated sigh, "I would abandon the woman and leave her to take care of the problem herself. This dancer obviously wishes to entrap you, to force you into marriage. My advice is to cut all ties with her and seek a new lover." Once his words were given, Erik immediately returned his attention to his cup of tea, though he was keenly aware of the look of shock the Persian was now aiming in his direction.

"What? I…I would never!" Amir gasped, his face turning a rather unhealthy shade of red over the idea. "Monique Sorelli is no such woman who would employ tactics such as that to ensnare a husband! She has genuine feelings for me…and I for her!"

"Is that so?" Erik continued, doing his best to keep his voice calm and void of emotion. "Are you thoroughly convinced of that? Perhaps she is not as faithful as you believe. What if she has been seeing other men on the side and you are not the father of this child after all? You could simply be the only one of her lovers whom she felt would do the honorable thing when presented with her condition."

"Again, you do her wrong by your accusations!" the foreign man huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Erik a menacing glare. "Monique has never given me cause to doubt her fidelity, and I know for a fact that she has turned down several handsome and influential admirers just to be with me!"

"It would appear that you have some serious feelings for this girl, or am I mistaken?" Erik pressed.

"Of course I do! I would not have slept with her otherwise…I am not some boorish lout!" Amir was becoming more and more incensed by Erik's line of questioning.

"Then it would appear that the child is the only regretful issue at hand," Erik concluded, rubbing his chin in thought. "The answer is plain then. Demand that she rid herself of the problem and you two can carry on much as you have, enjoying each other's company without the troubling business of fatherhood."

"What are you saying?" Amir shouted, jumping to his feet once more. "How could you suggest such a horrible thing? This is my _child_ we are talking about, not some debilitating virus one wishes to be rid of. I am shocked and appalled that you would ever think me capable of such an atrocity! You can take all your suggestions and shove them in your ear, for I will not be following any of them! I will do the honorable thing, which is marry Monique and raise my child like any decent man would! And nothing you can say will dissuade me otherwise!"

"I am very glad to hear it," Erik replied easily, a triumphant grin spreading across his lips. "I suspected that you might have already made up your mind on the subject, you simply needed a reason to give voice to it. Now sit down and finish your tea before it gets cold."

Amir was now the one stunned into silence, taking a few steps towards the table and reclaiming his seat next to Erik. He stared at the seemingly calm Frenchman for a long while, his mind mulling over what had just happened.

"You…you said all that just to get a rise out of me? To force me to admit my feelings about Monique and the baby?" he asked, his eyes still wide with astonishment.

"Of course I did," Erik huffed, not at all liking the idea that the Persian would think he had ever been serious. "You are far too nauseatingly noble a man to do anything but what was best for the girl and child. And now that you have spoken your decision out loud…how do you feel?"

"It…it feels as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders!" Amir was forced to admit, an easy smile now appearing on his face. "I…I honestly do care a great deal for Monique and it would grieve me greatly if I were to lose her. I may not be the greatest catch in all of Paris, but she seems to tolerate me, so who am I to doubt her feelings. As for the baby…that still might take some getting used to, but I know the child is mine and I would never abandon it to the world in such an uncaring manner. No, I will do my best to be a good and loving father as well." Amir stopped there and gave a long but relieved sigh. "I suppose I did know all along what I would do…I just needed someone to help me realize it myself." His eyes then narrowed as he gave Erik a stern glare. "However, that was a rather cruel way of doing it! You truly had me going there, thinking you meant all those terrible things you were saying."

"I have often heard it said that at times one needs to be cruel to be kind," he replied flippantly.

"I shall remember that the next time you need advice from me, my friend," Amir grumbled. "Like now as a matter-of-fact. How can I help you with your problem?"

"There is no help for me, Daroga," Erik said with a sad shake of his head. "I would fight for her if I knew how, but I will not risk endangering her father again with another confrontation. I was on the verge of strangling him once, I cannot run the chance of Christine hating me forever if I were to do the man harm."

"What about her mother…Anna?" Amir questioned. "Wouldn't she be on your side? After all, the two of you have a history."

"That is if she even remembers me," he pointed out. "Who is to say I was not just some unpleasant memory from her past she has long ago swept under the rug?"

"You will never know until you try to speak with her, Erik," the Persian insisted. "As for Christine's father, well you need to put yourself in his shoes."

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, not liking Amir's line of thought.

"Well how would you feel if you and Christine had a daughter and she brought a man home out of the blue, saying she loved him?" Amir posed. "How would you feel?"

"I would feel nothing, for even were Christine and I to wed, I would take precautions to see that we never have any children," Erik informed him, looking away in both shame and disgust.

"Come now, there is no need to make further sport of my mistakes, Erik," Amir huffed, thinking he was referring to his predicament once again. "I told you I will do the honorable thing…and in fact I am warming to the idea of being a father. I am sure you will too when the time comes."

"I told you, there will be no children!" Erik growled, the subject still a raw and open wound.

"I don't understand," Amir questioned, having no idea what was prompting Erik's foul mood.

"Thinking never _was _your strong suit, Daroga," Erik said bitterly, still unwilling to look in his direction. "It always amazed me how you were able to keep your job all those years in Persia."

"Quit sidestepping the issue, you infuriating man!" Amir growled. "Just answer the question!"

"LOOK AT ME, DAROGA!" Erik yelled, suddenly leaning forward and ripping off his mask, his yellow eyes ablaze with anger. "Do you honestly think I ever wish to see this face on another…especially an innocent child? DO YOU?"

Amir had seen beneath Erik's mask before, but each time it had been a shock…this one being no less so. He leaned backwards, grabbing hold of the table for support as he fought to regain the breath that had been stolen from him. Amir stared at the enraged man with a gaping mouth and no words. At last he understood…Erik dreaded producing a child that resembled him! It was not hard to guess that Christine wished for them and that is what had turned Erik's happiness to unmitigated terror. He feared the chance that he might pass his deformity on to any little one they might have…and if Amir was being completely honest…he knew he would fear that as well.

"I…I am sorry, Erik," the Persian muttered, knowing the words held very little comfort in light of his grief. "I wish there was something I could do…some way to help."

Amir's sincere offer deflated much of Erik's anger, and with a hint of regret over his actions, he replaced the mask in silence, shielding the man from any further sight of his monstrous deformity.

"There is no way to help…I have learned to live with my curse," Erik began, his voice full of remorse. "Yet I do not wish for Christine and her parents to suffer because of it as well. Christine desires children, she said so herself, and I can only imagine that Anna and her husband would like grandchildren as well. Yet with me, they will never have them. I cannot allow it. I would be condemning the child to a fate as bleak as my own." He then gave a heavy sigh, looking back down at his now empty tea cup. "Perhaps it all worked out for the best this way. Christine is back with her family and I…well, I am where I belong as well. Alone."

"Erik," Amir began, his tone deep and sympathetic. "You must not think that way. Christine loves you and you cannot give up on something like that. And until yesterday, I had lived quite happily without ever missing out on having any children. The joy you and Christine will share as husband and wife is not contingent on whether or not you two decide to have babies. Many happy and successful marriages exist without any children at all."

"And yet look at you," Erik pointed out. "I have noticed a light in your eyes ever since you decided to accept Sorelli as your wife and raise the child together. That is the same light I saw in Christine when she mentioned her desire to be a mother one day. I could not deny her such a thing, not when I know how much she longs to have a little boy or girl of her own."

At Erik's last statement all the color suddenly drained from the Persian's face.

"Merciful Allah, I…I could be having a daughter!" he sputtered, turning a pale shade of green. "Until you mentioned it, the sex of the child had not crossed my mind. What if it is a girl? One with my dark skin, Monique's green eyes and slim dancer's figure! Every man in Paris will wish to court her and I…I will have to kill them all!"

"And it could just as easily turn out to be a boy," Erik pointed out, hoping to stop the man from spiraling back down in self-doubt and insufferable self-pity.

"A son?" This thought did appear to lighten his mood. "Now, I rather like the sound of that. A boy who would take after me and grow up to drive the ladies insane with love."

"I believe you think far too much of your sexual prowess, Daroga," Erik said with a huff.

"That is not important right now, Erik," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "What matters is how to get you and Christine back together. You two can worry about the issue of children _after_ the wedding! You helped me with my problem, it is only fair that I do the same for you in return."

"I am not sure I want, or require, your aid in this, Persian," Erik replied with a hint of concern, for the man now seemed oddly determined.

"Nonsense! As a father now myself, I think I can understand where you went wrong when meeting Monsieur Daae for the first time." Amir was now completely engrossed in his own thoughts, hardly acknowledging Erik's protests. "He would want you to approach him privately, express your admiration and respect for his position as the girl's father and then petition him for her hand in marriage. So that is what you should do!"

"And what if he will not even agree to see me?" Erik interjected.

"Good point…you might have already burned that bridge," he regretfully agreed. "Then I say go back to the original plan – try and speak with her mother alone. Gain her as an ally and pray she has some sway over her husband." Amir then got a devious grin on his face. "That or just kidnap the girl and drag her back down here to your lair. There is something to be said for the classics."

"That is hardly amusing, Daroga," Erik said with another roll of his eyes. "And how would you suggest I approach Anna in the first place? I can't simply go walking up to her home in broad daylight and knock on the door, now can I?"

"What about that mask you were wearing the other night?" he asked. "Wearing it you could easily pass for any other man on the street. Use that again."

"I cannot," Erik informed him with a sad tone of voice. "The reason I do not wear it for more than a handful of minutes at a time is because the rubber irritates my face and the whole thing does not allow my skin to breathe. It makes me sweat and feel as if I am suffocating, but even that I could stand if it were not for the itching and burning that commences after less than half an hour of wearing it."

"That is indeed regrettable," Amir nodded. "For with it, you might be able to lead a potentially normal life in public. I mean as long as you do not allow anyone to get too close or inspect your face."

"And when in all my life have I ever consented to that?" Erik growled, thinking this line of conversation was quite foolish.

"Have you ever thought of wearing your leather mask underneath the rubber one?" he asked suddenly, thinking his idea was a brilliant one.

"Now you are just talking nonsense, it would be far too bulky and look worse than just wearing the cloth one alone," Erik argued, quite sure that the Persian had completely lost all good sense. And yet…perhaps he did have a point. What if Erik lined the rubber mask with a thin piece of cloth to serve as a barrier between it and his skin? It would still be stifling, but it might halt the itching and burning, which was what truly drove him insane. For a moment he wondered why he had not thought of this before, but placated himself with the idea that until now he had never required himself to think of a solution to the issue with his rubber mask. Given enough time, he was certain he would have come up with the notion on his own, so he did not need to credit the Daroga with any part of his plan.

"It was only a thought," Amir said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Yet I still think you should at least try and speak with Anna. You seem to have great success getting people to do your bidding as the Phantom, why not send her a note asking her to meet you someplace so you can speak in private. Above at the Opera Garnier perhaps?"

This was getting out of hand…the Daroga had two helpful ideas in one day? Perhaps this fatherhood thing had suddenly made the irritating Persian wise…Erik shuddered at the thought.

"I…I will consider what you have said," was all Erik could muster in the way of acceptance, not wishing to commit to anything one way or the other. "In the meantime I would appreciate it if you did not stick your nose into my affairs. I will handle them as I see fit."

"I will only agree to your terms if you in turn promise that you will do something!" Amir warned, getting a rather stern look in his eyes. "I will not allow you to sit down here and wallow in self-pity. Christine loves you, Erik, and I will do as you ask and not meddle, but _only_ until I deem it necessary for me to step in and fulfil my duty as your friend."

"So we are back to friends again, are we?" Erik now spoke in a threatening tone. "Just do not become overly confident in this assumption, for the next time I serve you tea it might indeed be poisoned."

"I will keep that in mind," Amir chuckled, seemingly not fazed by Erik's words. "And on that note, I will take my leave of you. I suddenly find myself with the need to go shopping for something very small in the shade of blue, I think."

"Or pink," Erik reminded him, causing the Persian's smile to fade once more.

"You certainly do know how to lay a man low, Erik!" he scolded as he stood up and left the room in a huff.

.

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Meanwhile, Christine had emerged from her room and joined her parents in the kitchen, ready to do battle with her father in defense of Erik's reputation and good character. She found them sitting at the table, an assortment of breakfast items in front of them waiting to be consumed. Her eyesight was still not back to normal, but she felt a measure of satisfaction that she was able to see her parents' expressions relatively well. Her mother appeared hopeful and eager, while her father's face reflected apprehension and disapproval. She would have to use every ounce of self-control she possessed to change it without losing her temper again. But in the end, she prayed that her father would see things her way. Both her and Erik's happiness depended on it!

"You look very lovely in that dress, Christine," her mother complimented as she sat down in the empty chair.

"Thank you," Christine smiled, then looked directly at her father before continuing. "Erik got it for me. He really does have very good taste."

When her father's expression grew a bit grim and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath, Anna placed her hand on his under the table and gave it a warning squeeze.

"Now Charles, you promised you would hear her out," she reminded him.

It took another moment or two before he was able to gather his wits and then he gave a sigh of resignation and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed.

"Very well, Christine, I am listening," he announced. "Please tell me all about your…_fiancé_." The last word came out more as a growl, leaving Christine to conclude that he was still far from pleased by her engagement.

"Erik is a wonderful man, Father, and if you had only taken the time to get to know him, you would know that yourself. He has not had an easy life and he has had to work hard for everything, making him very self-reliant, resourceful and ever so smart." As she spoke about him, Christine could not stop a smile of adoration from gracing her lips, thinking of all the reasons she loved him so dearly. "He put his whole life on hold when he found me, taking the time to nurse me back to health and see to my needs when he could have just as easily left me where I lay or tossed me out the moment I woke up. Then when I was better he took on the job as my voice coach, preparing me for the audition at the Opera Garnier. If it were not for his help, I doubt I would have made it into the finals for the upcoming festival. To me, Erik Trouville is perfect in every way, save one…and even that I couldn't care less about."

"You are referring to his deformity…his face?" Charles questioned, still a bit perplexed as to why he had not noted anything unusual about the man's looks, even when he had been leaning in rather close.

"Yes, but you cannot blame Erik for something he had no control over. It was not his choice to be born that way and there is nothing he could have done to change it!" she insisted, quickly coming to his defense.

"We are not saying it was his fault or that it should matter," Anna spoke up, once more squeezing her irritated husband's hand.

"Still, marrying a man who is required to wear a mask will not be easy," Charles spoke up, though his tone was surprisingly gentle. "I do not judge the man on his looks, it is his actions I am more concerned with. And from what I saw last night, he harbors quite a bit of animosity, something that if not kept in check could prove to be potentially dangerous."

"When a man is shown only hatred and scorn all his life, can you blame him if he tends to strike out at those who persecute him?" Christine interjected.

"Y-y-you mentioned he did not have an easy life," Anna spoke up, both wishing to know what had happened to Erik after he ran away from Suzette…but dreading it as well. "Did he tell you about it? Where he has been, what he has done?"

"Yes, he did tell me…with great reluctance," she admitted, bowing her head slightly as she thought of the horrors he had related to her. "Normally I would not betray his confidence by sharing such a tale, one he alone should have the option of revealing to you, if that be his choice. But perhaps, if you hear what atrocities he was forced to endure, you will come to understand _why_ he lost his temper when you so wrongly accused him last night, Father."

"Any explanation would be better than what my imagination has already been concocting, Christine," her father nodded, wishing to hear the whole truth.

"Then please know that I am only telling you this out of love for Erik and respect for you both. I will not hide anything from you, but neither does what I am about to say cause me to love him any less." She turned to her mother and gave her a pleading look. "You once told me never to judge a person by their past. That ill-conceived choices made in one's youth can often be the most hurtful and damaging, but should not be required to haunt them for the rest of their lives."

"And I stand by those words," Anna assured her, knowing that she had been referring to her own history with Walter when she had spoken that advice.

"Well then, like I said, Erik was born with a deformed face, and his mother was anything but sympathetic to his plight," Christine began, pain over her love's plight echoing in her voice. "He did not go into much detail, but suffice it to say, she was very horrible to him, going so far as to lock him in his room and ignore him for long periods of time. Can you even imagine how cruel that woman must have been to treat a child of ten that way?"

"I can indeed," Anna muttered, her eyes narrowing and her face growing cold. Yet when Christine turned to her with a quizzical expression she righted herself quickly. "Please, go on. What happened next?"

"When he could stand it no longer he ran away, leaving his childhood home when he was barely ten years old, in search of a better life. Unfortunately he did not find one and instead was captured by a band of gypsies who saw his face as a tool to make money. He spent four years living in a cage, traveling from town to town and put on display in their freak show."

"Dear God no!" Anna suddenly cried, covering her mouth with her hand out of grief.

"Steady, Anna," Charles spoke comfortingly as he placed his arm around her shoulders, realizing how his wife was now blaming herself for the boy's plight, so many years ago. "It was a long time ago and those cruel men were to blame, no one else."

"Mother, are you all right?" Christine asked, squinting her eyes in hopes that she could see her mother's expressions more clearly and understand why she was reacting so strongly. Granted it was a heart wrenching tale, one that had brought Christine to tears quite easily, but her mother had yet to even meet Erik.

"I…I am fine," she lied, feeling her heart break over the pain her darling boy must have endured. Oh, if only she had known! "Please, continue," she insisted, taking a shaking breath as she prepared herself for more.

"Erik told me that he managed to escape at last, though he never explained how exactly. After which he traveled around Europe, working on construction sites or at whatever job he could find until he was invited to visit Persia, personally requested by the Shah himself." There Christine paused, unsure if she should continue.

"Well, that sounds…rather impressive," Charles had to admit. He found this news put Erik in a favorable light, for he was certain being summoned by such a high potentate was an honor indeed. He also noted that this part of the man's history did not appear to further upset his wife.

"It was…until the wicked Shah conscripted Erik into servitude in the most horrible way!" Here she paused once more, wondering if what she was about to say would help Erik's cause or hinder it. Yet either way, she _had_ to tell them. She would not hide anything from them about the man she loved, for she was not ashamed of him or the things he so bravely endured… and they needed to see that. "For you see, that terrible man used some very strong, very addictive drugs on Erik, forcing him to…to kill for his entertainment."

"He what?" Charles stood up so quickly that the chair he had been sitting in tipped over and struck the floor. "What kind of man was this Persian king? Had he no decency…no morals?" For all his railing and condemning of Erik's behavior, even Charles suddenly felt a twinge of pity for the man who had been mistreated so horrendously. However, this did not change the fact that his daughter had just admitted that her fiancé was a known killer! "I knew it! I could tell from the look in his eye that he had a violent streak!"

"No, Father, please listen!" Christine cried, also standing up from her seat as she faced off with her enraged parent. "Erik is not like that at all! He would have never done such things if he had been in his right mind, but that evil ruler kept Erik constantly drugged and forced him to comply with his every wish…a wish for bloodshed. It took Erik years to break free from his mind control and escape that hedonistic country, aided by a noble and kind man named Amir. A man who eventually followed Erik here to Paris and has kept in touch with him ever since. And even though he can become rather upset at times, especially when cornered or provoked, Erik would never physically harm anyone ever again! He has proven that to me and I believe in my heart he has truly changed."

Charles opened his mouth to say more, but when he saw the grief stricken look and utter pain etched upon his dear Anna's face over this news, he thought better of it. Quickly righting his chair, he scooted it closer to her and did his best to comfort her however he could, wiping away the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks.

"Please Anna…don't cry," he begged, hating to see his wife sad for any reason.

Anna did her best to control her emotions, but the very idea of all the atrocities her sweet Erik had been forced to endure was almost too much to bear. If only she had come back sooner, if only she had been able to save him, then none of what he had suffered would have come to pass. She could have protected and sheltered him…instead he had been thrown to the cruelties of this world.

"But…but you say that he found a friend?" Anna asked, sounding hopeful at the thought. "Someone who helped him…who cared for him?"

"Well, if you ask Erik he would deny their friendship to the grave," Christine admitted, giving a slight laugh. "But even blind, I could see how much they admire and trust one another. Still, there was _one_ other person from his past that Erik mentioned having fond memories of, and that was his nanny. Erik told me that she had been the only person to ever show him love and acceptance."

At this Anna could take no more and threw her arms around Charles' neck, holding on for dear life as she wept into his shoulder.

"Oh, Charles!" she gasped between sobs. "He …he did not forget, he remembers me!"

"Shhhhh, my lamb," her husband soothed, stroking her hair as he spoke gently. "Of course he does…how could he not?"

"Mother?" Christine was very confused by all this. For the way they were talking about Erik it was almost as if they knew him. But how could that be? Then suddenly, as if a light had gone on in her mind, Christine knew. Her mother had been…Erik's nanny! It all made sense now, the missing time of her mother's life that she had always refused to talk about, the way she had reacted when Christine had mentioned Erik's name and the fact that he wore a mask. Her mother already knew all about him! Well, now_ she_ needed to know the story as well. "What is it that you are not telling me?"

Charles gave his daughter a sad smile as he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to his weeping wife. When Anna had at last composed herself she turned to Christine and spoke the words she had been longing to reveal for far too many years.

"Oh, my darling," Anna spoke in a sad, regretful voice. "I am afraid that I have kept something from you…a piece of my past I never felt strong enough to reveal. But it would appear that now you need to be told the truth…the truth about how I met Erik Trouville, when he was just eight years old."

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**And now the truth will be told. Christine will know everything. All will be in the open.**

**Now if only ERIK would get the nerve to come back and try again!**

**And look at that...Amir DOES love Sorelli and he is off to propose! What a cute little family they will be.**

**Wasn't Erik wicked to get him to realize his feelings that way? I hope you ALL realized what he was doing and didn't believe a word of that hog-wash!**

**Thanks to everyone for your continued reviews!**


	41. Chapter 41

**First of all, I have to share this funny! A reader pointed something out to me that I found hysterical...especially since it was NOT intentional yet fit so perfectly. Here is what 'Mominator124' had to say:  
**

_"ROFL! You would not believe how much I laughed when Charles announced he didn't want Christine to marry a CAD, then Anna shook her finger in his face and used his entire name: Charles Andrew Daaé. Do you realize just what his initials spell?"_

**Well, needless to say, I laughed and laughed! Nice catch!**

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**Guest reviews: And thank you to everyone who gave themselves a name!**

**MlleNikki:** Amir is pretty happy for himself now too, thanks to Erik's coaching. I agree, and even if he is NOT welcome by Charles, I am sure he can win him over with some nice music discussions and extolling the virtues of Christine. Right?

**Cora:** Playing catch up DOES have its advantages, and not having to worry about cliff hangers is top of the list. ha ha. Sorry for your ouchie! Hope you heal fast! Erik and Charles are so much alike they have to either hate each other or be best buddies. Time will tell. Amir is rather happy now, isn't he? OH and CONGRATULATIONS on being the review that moved SIB ahead of Siren of the Sea! THANKS!

**yourocksocks:** Yes, Amir will be a wonderful father! I think given time Erik MIGHT warm up to the idea of kids...IF a certain Anna would fill him in on a few secrets of his past, that is. Everything IS about to be disclosed!

**PhantomChristine:** Ha ha, he already got the guts to go say HI and it did not work out well...now he needs the guts to go BACK and say "sorry". ha ha.

**Review Saver:** DD can be a bit forceful...I mean look where she has ME! ha ha. I do hope you read it...AND LIKE IT, so that your labor of love is not in all 'labor' ha ha. Thanks.

**Ziro:** I do like to lay on the feels! GET ready for some more! Yep, everything is getting out in the open, ready for the big reunion!

**PhanGuest:** OH yes, I always knew which one was YOU. Thanks. Erik did use some tricky methods, but it got his point across...Amir is in love with Monique and wants the baby. Anna was sad about his past, but now Charles can understand him better too. He does want to continue...he is just scared. Thanks.

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**Chapter 41**

**And So the Truth be Told**

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Anna's story had been long and painful to tell, though many memories had brought a smile to her lips, recounting both the good times as well as the bad. Through her mother's eyes, Christine was now able to see the man she had come to love in child form; smart, talented and curious, yet also so alone and desperate for love.

Christine had to laugh at the tale of how Erik had learned to throw his voice, now fully understanding how he had tricked her that night in the lavatory. For she had long suspected that she had not been alone in the room; the warm and steamy air giving away the fact that someone had recently filled the tub with hot water. Yet, she had never understood how he was able to be in two places at once – in the bath as well as the hallway. Now she knew! Her face turned a shade of pink thinking of what she might have discovered had she chosen to ignore his call and investigate further.

Yet, when her mother described the circumstances that had forced her to flee, leaving Erik behind in the clutches of the wicked Suzette, Christine had been reduced to a mess of tears right along with Anna. In the face of their tragic parting, it warmed Christine's heart to hear that both her mother and father had taken steps to rescue him, yet their attempt had been too late. Causing them to return to Sweden empty handed and weighted down in heart.

"I…I never knew what became of Erik after he ran away," Anna finished, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief Charles had given her. "I prayed for him every night, hoping that he had somehow found a good home and some measure of happiness. Yet now, to hear what he endured, it breaks my heart a thousand times over. My poor darling boy, he never deserved any of that – never deserved any of the horrible things this world has thrown at him!"

"And yet he always had the memory of you, Mother," Christine said consolingly, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Erik told me how much that time with you meant to him. To him, you are his one good memory. The only person who ever showed him love."

"And now, you as well, Christine," her mother added, reaching out and cupping her daughter's tear stained cheek. "I only ever wanted the best for Erik, and now he has found it… you!" She then got a rather humorous look on her face as she continued. "Although, originally it was my dream that you and Erik would be raised as siblings - your father and I having decided we would take Erik in and adopt him as our own."

This idea caused Christine to pull back slightly, her brow furrowing just a bit as she became disturbed at the idea.

"Erik…as my brother?" she repeated, not liking the idea. "I…I do not think I care for the sound of that."

"I am sure you do not," Anna agreed with an understanding laugh. "However, it would appear that fate had other plans, and I am just happy you found one another. I always knew you two would get along well, I just never imagined it would be romantic love that would bring you together."

"I _do_ love him, Mother," Christine confessed, a smile coming to her lips at the mere thought of him. "I love him so completely that I can't imagine my life without him. Erik is truly amazing, in fact, everything you described and more. I can't wait for you to meet him again, he will be so thrilled!"

"I am not sure that I can say the same," Charles huffed, feeling quite left out of the conversation. "And none of what you two have said excuses the fact that in the past he was a killer… and could easily kill again!"

"You don't know that!" Christine argued. "When I was attacked by those drunken men on the street, it was Erik who came to my rescue. He dispatched all three of them, but he did not kill them! He easily could have, and even admitted later that he had wished to do just that…but he did not! He _is_ a reformed man, Father. I know he is."

"You were attacked?" This was news to Charles, having not been privy to the things she had told Anna earlier, and all the blood drained from his face as she spoke of it. "When was this and where?"

"It does not matter now; the point is that Erik saved me…multiple times!" Christine insisted, not wishing to get into the full story of that horrific night. "He first rescued me from drowning after the accident and then when I began to despair after learning of my blindness, he…" she would have continued to tell him about her foolish thoughts of suicide, but a stern look from Anna stopped her, reminding her that this was probably not the best time and place to tell that tale. "…He stood by me and helped me find my way again," she finished, putting a better spin on things. "He even helped train my voice, preparing me for my audition for the festival. Oh, Father, Erik is such a talented musician, I know you would be impressed if you could only hear him play! And his voice…you won't believe how that man can sing!"

"I always knew he would excel at such things," Anna gushed, pure and unadulterated pride showing in her eyes. "Even as a child I could hear his potential."

"Something he has lived up to in excess," Christine assured her. "Yet for all his talent and genius, I can see that he is still the same little boy, fighting for love and acceptance. I could hear the fear in his voice when he asked for my hand in marriage, fully expecting that I would deny him like everyone else in the world had. He has been hurt so much in his life, and now all I want to do is love him. To prove that he is worthy of affection and encourage him to show it in return."

"And as your father, the man who raised you, have I any say in the matter?" Charles asked, crossing his arms and staring at the two women before him.

"Of course you do, Charles," Anna assured him, patting his hand in a placating manner. "Christine values your opinion, just as I do. However, do you recall what you said to me over twenty years ago?" When her husband gave her a blank look, not quite sure which words of his she was about to use against him, Anna continued. "When I asked why you would be willing to travel with me to France to rescue a poor, neglected boy… you said even though you had never met him or formed any attachment to him, you would do so upon my word alone that you would grow to love him. Back then you were willing to accept Erik into our lives and be a true father to him…can you not do the same once more, solely based upon my word and the recommendation of your daughter?"

"The difference here is that I _have_ met him…and he did not seem to like me at all!" he argued back.

"Can you blame him?" Christine asked, standing up and walking around the table until she stood in front of him. "I know you were very upset last night and my arrival out of the blue was a bit of a shock, but Father, you said some very hurtful things toward Erik…and me! Would you have had any respect for him at all if he had simply stood there and not defended my honor?"

At this, Charles' face became red with embarrassment and he looked away, not wishing to see the hurt in his daughter's eyes. He had treated them both horribly and he knew it. Looking back at some of the things he had said, he was suddenly surprised that Erik had not done more! The offended man would have been completely justified if he had chosen to strike him across the face over his unjust words.

"I…I know I was wrong," he admitted at last, reaching out to take Christine's hands, as she kneeled down before him. "I acted like a cad last night, and even though I still do not condone violence, if anyone had said what I had about you, my precious daughter, I would have beat that man to a bloody pulp."

"I know you did not mean any of it, truly," Christine assured him, understanding how upset both he and her mother had been over her disappearance. "Just like I did not mean any of what I said to you either. I love you, Father, more than anything! I could never hate you, and I am so very sorry for worrying you like I did. But please, you have to understand that Erik did not _mean_ to act so threatening towards you. Tempers were high last night and it was all a terrible mistake. One I know can be rectified by some calm talk and a little understanding."

"As well as a rather humble apology on my part," Charles confessed, giving a regretful smile as he cupped Christine's cheek with his hand, so utterly grateful for the privilege to do so once again. While he had firmly retained hope that they would find their missing daughter, even he had to admit that in the past few days, he had feared the worst. And apparently, Charles had Erik Trouville to thank for the safe return of his little girl - for protecting her, taking care of her and then bringing her back to them. For that act alone, he knew he would forgive the man his overzealous actions and do all he could to start fresh.

However, before he would willingly hand over his only daughter, this Erik fellow would still have to prove his love for Christine. To him, his daughter's future and happiness were paramount, and if Erik could assure Charles of his heartfelt intentions to devote just as much commitment to her…then perhaps he might relent. Even if he had long ago developed an inbred dislike for every man who dared to come courting. "Are you certain of your feelings for him, Christine?" he asked, searching her eyes for proof of her love for this man. "And his…his face, it does not bother you…truly?"

"Have you actually seen it, my dear?" Anna chimed in, worried now that perhaps she had not, since her daughter claimed to have been completely blind up until a few days ago. "For as much as I love him, Erik's countenance is not something to be taken lightly. Even back then I knew that his appearance would be a hindrance to him for the rest of his life. Are you now willing to share that burden with him?"

"It is true that I have never _seen_ his face with my own eyes," Christine was forced to admit, lowering her gaze as she fiddled with her hands nervously. "But I have touched it. I asked him to allow me to see his face the only way I could at the time, and what I felt was…was not pretty. Yet, I will love him no matter what he looks like!" She then turned to her father, giving him a pleading look. "Please believe me, this is not something I decided on the spur of the moment or simply out of misplaced gratitude. The feelings I have for him are true and I will not change my mind. I understand there will be hard times because of his deformity, but with love on our side, we can get through it…together!"

Charles felt his heart melt at the sincerity of her words and the conviction in her eyes. When had his little girl grown into such a confidant woman?

"I believe you, Christine," he nodded, doing his best not to choke up.

"Then you will allow Erik to return?" Christine asked hopefully. "You will not fight or argue with him again?"

"I will…_attempt_ to be civil," he nodded. "For it would seem with his past and deadly skills, it would be in my best interest _not _to anger him." While he did his best to infuse some humor into that statement, Charles was not quite sure he was kidding. The memory of how easily the intimidating man had thrown him up against the wall was still very clear in his mind.

Standing up, Christine threw her arms around her father's neck and hugged him tightly.

"I love you, Father," she assured him, kissing his cheek and receiving a bright smile in return.

"And never doubt that I love you as well, my precious one," he responded. Then reaching out his hand and taking hold of Anna's, he gave it a squeeze. "I have both my beautiful girls with me and smiling once again, what man could ever ask for more?"

"Well, at one time you had wished for a son," Anna reminded him. "I think it is high time we looked into getting one of those…but perhaps in the form of a son-in-law."

This caused both Charles and Christine to burst into laughter, all three of them simply happy to all be safe and together once more.

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Erik had spent the remainder of his day alone, Amir having rushed off not long after finishing his tea, quite intent on finding Monique and begging her to accept his offer of matrimony. The idea caused Erik a measure of happiness as well as grief, knowing that the Persian was able to do as he pleased, without all the insecurities that plagued him on a daily basis. Erik could never venture into the daylight without first taking precautions that he would not be stared at. He could never offer his hand in marriage to a woman without her first being rendered blind. And as for meeting her parents…well, he had found out firsthand what a catastrophe that had been! Yet Amir's words kept coming back to haunt him. _Christine loves you._ And while he decided a better man would ignore such things and leave the poor woman in peace, his heart would not relinquish its hold. Erik desired her, he ached for her…he needed her to continue living. So making up his mind, he chose to give it one last chance, to speak with Christine – and Anna as well – and then let her be the one to say if he should stay or go. He would not argue, he would not beg…he would simply abide by her decision and slink off alone if that be her wish. Yet deep down he hoped she would not turn him away so harshly.

Knowing he could not venture out in daylight until he had a chance to redesign his rubber mask, the oddly helpful suggestions the Persian had made about how to improve the comfort of it were still running around in his mind. He would acquire the necessary material during his venture to see Christine, though if she did spurn his advances, he would no longer need to revamp the uncomfortable thing. Yet he pushed such negative thoughts from his mind and instead concentrated on his music, hoping to become lost in its addictive pleasure and lose track of time.

He was mildly successful, for with only a few remembered glances at the wickedly slow clock, he soon found it was past sunset, the optimum time for Erik to be out. So donning his best cloak, straightening his cravat and downing a quick shot of brandy to steady his nerves, he headed for the surface.

The chill in the air did not bode well and he felt himself give an involuntary shiver at the thought of what he intended to do. Last night's meeting with Christine's father had been more than enough to keep him from ever returning to that flat again, yet the vision of his darling angel pushed him on. When he arrived at the Rue de Perlet, Erik hid in the shadows across the way, hoping that a little more time would give him the courage he needed to march across the street and knock on the door. Yet the longer he waited, the more nervous he got, until he was seriously considering turning around and going back to his lair in defeat.

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For Christine, the rest of the day had been spent catching up with her parents, telling them of all her adventures with Erik and the Opera Garnier as well as hearing their side of what had taken place in her absence. Yet with all their speech, not one of them had come up with any ideas on how to locate Erik or get him to return. Charles conveyed his regrets on the hand he played in running him off, and promised to do all he could to assist in finding him again. He was overjoyed that Christine seemed to have forgiven him, yet he knew he had to make it right before he would forgive himself. For now that he knew who this Erik fellow was, he realized he had not only broken his daughter's heart, but that of his wife as well. He was keenly aware of how often over the years Anna had longed to be reunited with the little boy she had cared for, and by acting rashly the previous night, he had robbed her of that joy.

Charles' hopes of redemption came later that evening as he went to pull the curtains in preparation for the night. For when he looked out over the streets of Paris, he spotted a figure across the way, lurking in the shadows. At first he was ready to dismiss the man, but something made him stop and squint his eyes to take a better look. And there, as he turned just so, Charles was able to catch a flash of white from under the wide brimmed fedora the man wore. Could it have been a glimpse of the mask both Anna and Christine claimed Erik wore? Was it indeed the very man, now standing outside the flat, hoping to catch sight of his daughter? Charles was willing to bet that it was.

Quickly stepping away from the window, for fear he might be spotted, Charles decided it was best not to alert Anna and Christine, just in case he was wrong and his mistake would only dash their hopes. Instead he walked towards the foyer, calling back over his shoulder that he was going to step out for a few moments and get some fresh air. He barely heard the words of acknowledgement from his wife and daughter as he slipped into his overcoat and headed out the door. He could no longer see Erik from this vantage point but he hoped the man had not already left. As quickly as he could, while avoiding a passing hansom cab, he crossed the street and began to search the area he had spotted the man only moments ago. Yet after nearly ten minutes of making his way up and down the street, checking in every alcove and deserted alleyway, he gave up in defeat.

"Damn you, Erik," he mumbled under his breath as he turned back towards his flat. He was now twice as glad he had not alerted them to his suspicions, seeing that he had either been horribly mistaken or the man in question had taken to flight the moment he had seen him approach. Either way he would not find absolution tonight, having failed to bring back the man his daughter so desperately wished to see. Yet he would not give up! This was all his fault and he would see it rectified if he had to get a shovel and dig up all of Paris to find this Erik! When he reached the door, his hand on the knob, Charles turned once more and stared into the darkness, searching for what no longer appeared to be there. Then with a sigh, he headed back inside where it was warm.

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Erik stepped out of the alley that had been his hiding place and watched his adversary return to his home. He had seen him exit the building and head directly over to where he had been standing, obviously having seen him from the window. Erik chided himself on his complacency, for it would never do for the Opera Ghost to become slack in his ability to go unseen. Still he had been able to sufficiently hide from the older man as he made a somewhat thorough search of the area, obviously looking for him. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard Charles mutter his name with a curse, leaving Erik to believe that hiding had been the wise course of action. He had wished to speak with Christine, or at least see Anna, not continue the tirade of insults and threats with his fiancée's father.

Now with his confidence shaken and the confirmation that he was still not welcome inside their little flat, Erik turned and headed back towards his lair. He stopped only long enough at a local store to break in and take the supplies needed to alter his mask. While he had not had success with this attempt, he was far from willing to give up. He needed to get Anna alone, plead his case and then offer his heart once more to Christine. And as much as he hated to admit it, Amir's suggestion about sending a note from the Opera Ghost was probably the only way he was going to get close to his old nanny. He would work on his mask tonight, keeping his mind busy on other things so he would not dwell on his lost little angel…but tomorrow he would visit the opera house and see that the letter was sent.

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"You were not gone long," Anna commented as Charles made his way into the kitchen where she and Christine were having tea. She poured him a cup and gestured for him to join them.

Once he had, Charles noticed that both his wife and daughter were smiling at him in an odd way, leaving him to believe that they were plotting against him…or they had come up with an idea.

"Is there something I should know?" he asked, taking a cautious sip of the tea.

"Christine just remembered something that might help us locate Erik's underground home," Anna announced, taking hold of her daughter's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Oh, and what is that?" Charles asked, looking at them both anxiously.

"Not what…_who!"_ Christine said with a laugh. "I got to thinking that the only two people who might know where I can find Erik are Amir and Victor. Now since I never learned either man's last name, finding them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. However, I just recalled that when I auditioned for the festival, Victor accompanied me there and back, dropping me off at the secret entrance to Erik's home."

"So this Victor fellow, he is the one who pretended to be your cousin? The one the managers told us about?" Charles concluded, ashamed at how he had originally assumed this man was some lecherous scoundrel bent on seducing his little girl.

"He is Erik's assistant, he runs errands for him and does things that he can't due to the fact he wears a mask," Christine explained. "It was Erik's idea that he portray my cousin, to be there to assist me up on stage under the fabrication of me having twisted my ankle."

"But that was just to cover the fact that you were still blind, correct?" Anna deduced. "That was very clever of him."

"I thought so, and it worked very well," Christine agreed. "I never did find out what Erik was planning to do for the actual festival itself, but since my eyesight is almost as good as new, I suppose it no longer matters. Still, I think I might be able to get Victor to divulge the whereabouts of Erik's home to me, if I ask him just the right way."

"I hope you do not mean to flirt with the man!" Charles demanded, not liking the idea of his innocent child manipulating anyone with her feminine wiles.

"Of course not!" Christine huffed, giving her father a disapproving stare. "I would never treat that kind man thus, besides, Erik is a bit on the jealous side and I would never betray him that way."

"I would not be very pleased about you doing that either," Charles informed her, once more slipping into protective father mode. "Yet if you do not know his last name, how do you plan to find him to ask?"

"Well, when we left the opera house that day, one of the ballerinas approached us and even without the use of my eyes, it was quite plain that she fancied Victor, and he in turn her." Here Christine paused and got a very smug look on her face. "I of course played the part of match maker and set the two up on a lunch date the following day. I might not know everything about Monsieur Victor…but I am willing to bet this ballerina, Meg Giry, does!"

"So all we need to do is visit the Opera Garnier tomorrow, locate this Meg, and have _her_ tell us where to find Victor…who will in turn lead us directly to Erik!" Anna concluded, her own smile a mile wide.

"He will if he knows what is good for him," Charles laughed, seeing the determined looks on Christine and Anna's faces. "So, it would appear that you two have it all figured out! I say we will leave right after breakfast tomorrow and not come home without answers!"

"Agreed!" Christine replied, a measure of hope growing within her heart. Tomorrow she would see Erik again…she just knew it!

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**Now...before you string me up for letting Erik chicken out...go read the next chapter! Which is brought to you courtesy of _Mandy23b _who spent her "post a bonus chapter now" card! So everyone say thank you to her for getting two chapters at once!**

**BUT PLEASE STOP AND WRITE A SHORT REVIEW FIRST!**


	42. Chapter 42

**STOP! I posted TWO chapters today. If you have not read #41 yet, stop here and go back to read it first!**

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**Once again, you all have _Mandy23b_ to thank for this bonus chapter today!**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**syrianlight: ** Yep, if Erik does not get his rear in gear, Amir will take matters into his own hands! I am sorry you thought Erik was being serious! But he was only saying such things...none of it he meant. Be careful, Amir, bringing your kid over to play 'Tea Party" with Erik could turn deadly. ha ha. Hey look, you and Amir think alike about the mask situation!

**Mystery:** That is right, it is NOT genetic...good for you for remembering that! Now he just needs to be TOLD this bit of information. How handy that the only one in existence is there is Paris. ha ha. Glad I can still make you laugh - and Amir being poisoned does not SOUND funny...but it really is. ha ha. Yes, Anna was sad. LOTS OF HUGGING for sure! Let's see if we can hire Pirate Erik from Siren of the Sea to take everyone to the Island of Common Sense and get that "shut up and listen juice"!

**TheRebbs98:** Erik SHOULD be a motivational speaker (and live in a van, down by the river...Chris Farley joke) Erik has spend YEARS learning how to rile Amir. And if finally came in handy for once. You asked for a heads up as to when the reunion was coming...well...HEADS UP. Get to a quiet place where no one is around so you and squeal all you want. You have been warned.

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**Chapter 42**

**Reunions**

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The following morning could not come soon enough, yet even with all her anxiousness, Christine and her parents did not make it out of their flat and on their way to the Opera Garnier until almost noon. Not due to laziness, but because her father had wisely pointed out that the doors would not be open until at least that time, and he was not about to risk the health of the two women he loved by allowing them to stand outside on the cold steps all morning. So by the time the large and impressive building came into view, Christine's nerves were on edge and she was practically humming with excitement. Would her idea to locate the little dancer named Meg pay off? Would this day end with her back in her beloved's arms? She prayed the answer would be yes.

Thankfully, by then the doors _had_ been opened to the public, allowing patrons to come in and purchase tickets or check on the upcoming ballet recitals that were scheduled until the official opera season began. Yet the place seemed oddly quiet, most of the employees and performers getting a late start of it after the previous night's performance. Even with her mind set on finding Erik, Christine could not help but stop at the bottom of the grand staircase and take in the sight before her. Each morning since her eyesight had begun to return, Christine had marveled at every little detail as things became more and more clear. The sunlight that streamed in the window, the color of the sky, the birds flying overhead and even the sight of her fingers and toes now thrilled her. She swore never to take her gift of sight for granted again, realizing just how much she had been deprived while having been imprisoned in darkness.

Her only regret was that she had yet to be able to look upon the man she loved; no matter his warnings of how she might not like what she saw. Still, the last time she had come to the opera house she had been unable to see anything, and the time before that she had been far too nervous to look around, simply there to check in and put her name on the list for her second audition. Yet now…now as she stood there, she was indeed awestruck at the opulence before her. From the marble stairs, to the gilded statues flanking either side as well as the breathtaking paintings that covered the ceiling above her…all of it, simply amazing.

"Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?" Christine asked, her voice almost a whisper as she turned around, taking it all in. "And to think…I will get the chance to perform here for the festival."

"And I am sure many times more as well," her father added, a note of pride in his voice. "After you win the contest and are offered the position of lead soprano."

"Now you sound just like Erik," Christine laughed, a blush coming to her face at her father's encouraging words. "He too speaks as if I have already won the title."

"Well, perhaps he is not as bad as I originally thought," Charles teased, nudging Christine with his elbow as the two shared a laugh.

Anna however was no longer paying attention to her husband and daughter, for she too was now examining the architecture that surrounded her. She was not quite sure what it was at first, but something struck her as familiar, and as she continued to stare, Anna suddenly realized why. Everywhere she looked she saw Erik's drawings! All the pages of architectural sketches he had fussed over as a child were now staring her in the face. _He_ had created this magnificent palace, there was no question in her mind! But how?

"So where should we begin to look for this dancer you seek?" Charles asked, glancing to the left and then the right.

"I do not know," Christine admitted.

"Perhaps it would be best to search out the managers again," he suggested. "For they requested that we notify them the moment we found out your whereabouts. Thus we could kill two birds with one stone, by doing so and then asking them if we could speak with one of their dancers." With a nod of agreement from Christine, Charles turned to head in the direction of the managers' office.

"You two go ahead," Anna cut in, not making to follow them. "I will wait for you here, if that is all right."

"Why?" Christine asked, turning a concerned look towards her mother. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Oh, yes," she quickly assured them, offering a warm smile. "I would just like to take a look around is all. Besides, those are a lot of stairs to climb and I am not as young as I once was."

"Nonsense!" Charles insisted, rather offended that she would say such things. "You are just as beautiful and vibrant as the day I met you."

"And you are just as handsome and flattering as well," she laughed, reaching up to give him an appreciative kiss. "Still, go on without me, I will meet you back here when you have gained the information you seek."

"Are you certain?" Christine questioned, still not convinced.

"Yes, now go…the sooner you find this dancer the quicker we can go in search of Erik." This form of reasoning seemed to ease her mind and with a nod of agreement, Christine and Charles headed up the stairs, leaving Anna alone to once again marvel at her surroundings.

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Erik had worked late into the night on his rubber mask, doing all he could to ensure that the offensive material no longer touched his abnormal flesh, thus causing the irritation he so despised. At first the latex did not bother him, but the longer it remained in contact with his skin, the more it began to burn and itch, until it was all he could do not to rip it off out of sheer frustration. Yet now, with a layer of fabric as a barrier, perhaps he might be able to leave it on for a substantial amount of time. He had never told Christine about his flesh-like mask, having not even considered its use until the night he had returned her to her parents. Yet, even if he had remembered, the issue of its irritation would have caused him to simply dismiss it as an option. However, if he could fix the problem, it would open up a new array of possibilities for him…and in turn Christine. Of course that all hinged on the hope that she still wished to be in his company.

He had done all he could the night before, leaving it to dry as he at last stumbled to his room and collapsed out of sheer exhaustion. However, he knew it had nothing to do with physical fatigue; no…it was all mental. The amount of energy he expended in missing Christine was beyond tiring, and Erik was not sure he could continue on for very long without her. He recalled how only hours before he had found her, lying half dead on his lake shore, he had decided he felt old. He had wished only for peace and quiet in his life, as he waited for death to eventually take him. But she had changed everything. Her youth and spirit had revitalized him, leaving him to feel young and needed. Without her there to infuse that life in him, he knew in time he would waste away to nothing, like a candle left to burn too long until it simply snuffed itself out.

So when morning came and he lay there thinking of all his options, the only one that seemed viable was to find Christine and do all he could to win her back. Erik had said he would not beg for Christine's love, but he was fooling no one – he would do that and so much more. He would grovel, plead and even be willing to apologize to her father if that was what it took. He had no pride left…only his love for his darling angel. He hoped it would be enough.

It took him a long while to find the ambition to rise and ready himself for the day. Erik decided a trip above would be first on his list. He hoped he was not too late for a letter to be posted today, and after a quick glance at the clock he decided if he hurried he might just make it in time. Quickly he penned a note to Anna, asking her to meet with him on the steps of the opera house in two days' time, giving the letter plenty of time to arrive. He asked her to come in the wee hours, before the streets became crowded with people, but he knew he would wait all day if needs be. No, he would not give up hope that his dear nanny might remember him and become his ally in his pursuit of Christine.

So with hope in his heart and determination in his step, he expertly navigated the darkened tunnels up to the Opera Garnier. He was just making his way through the secret passages adjacent to the grand staircase when he heard it. _Singing!_ And the moment the words to this song touched his ears, he was instantly transported back in time to the first moment she had ever graced him with that lullaby. _It was Anna!_

As quick as lightning he located the hidden window that would allow him to observe the entryway from his hiding spot. His breath caught in his throat as he saw her for the first time in over two decades. Her hair sported a bit of gray and there were perhaps a few more wrinkles around her eyes, just as he had noted from the photo he had taken from the box of Christine's possessions. Yet this only proved that she had laughed and smiled plenty of times in the past years – but she was still _his Anna_. In truth, she had not changed at all, she was still the same warm, caring and gentle looking woman he remembered. Best of all, she was within his reach and seemingly all alone! Now was the perfect opportunity…but how would he get her attention?

Erik had to think quickly!

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Meanwhile Charles and Christine were just leaving the managers' office, both men having been overjoyed to learn that their star contestant had indeed been found and had every intention of performing at the festival. They had been more than happy to direct the two towards the dormitories for the ballet dancers, instructing them that Meg Giry was housed in room twelve.

"I do hope that she is still there," Christine told her father as they made their way down the hall. "I would hate to have to wait for her to return from some lunch engagement or shopping trip." She was so wrapped up in her determination to find Meg that she did not look where she was going and rounded the corner only to plow right into the figure of a man.

"A thousand pardons, Mademoiselle," the gentleman said as he grabbed hold of her arms to steady her, both of them nearly tumbling over each other. "Are you all right?"

"Monsieur Amir?" Christine gasped, recognizing the foreign man's voice and accent immediately, even if his appearance was still unfamiliar to her eyes.

"C-c-christine?" he stammered, taking a step back as he stared at her, his eyes wide with shock and perhaps a touch of fear. "What…what are you doing here?"

"Amir, mon amour?" Came the questioning voice of a sultry looking, raven haired woman standing at the Persian's side, looking up at him for understanding. "How is it that you know this girl?"

"This is the Amir you spoke of?" Charles chimed in, also trying to sort things out.

Monique apparently did not like the sound of this at all and let her displeasure be made known.

"And why has this girl spoken of you, my love?" It was now evident that she was becoming suspicious of the pretty girl and the Persian knew he needed to quickly set things straight or face her jealous wrath.

"Monique, my little flower," he began in a soothing voice, placing his arm around her in a comforting manner. "This is Mademoiselle Christine Daae, perhaps you remember her from the singing audition she gave a few weeks ago? And this, if I am not mistaken, is her father, Monsieur Daae." He quickly extended his other hand to the friendly looking Swedish man, who in turn shook it warmly. "Christine, may I present to you my fiancée, Monique Sorelli."

"Fiancée?" Christine was taken aback by this, for she had no idea he had been seeing anyone, let alone intent on marriage. _Well good for him_, she thought to herself. Quickly remembering her manners, she offered her own hand in greeting to the striking woman. "Congratulations to you both. I am happy to say that you two make a lovely pair."

"Ahhh, so your sight has improved even more, has it?" Amir asked, looking genuinely pleased by her observation, pulling the woman closer to him as he gazed down at Monique in admiration. "And I can't agree with you more, Christine, we do look rather good together. Although next to this graceful goddess, I more resemble a court jester, yet I would wish to be nowhere else but by her side."

"Oh, Amir, you do flatter me so," Monique blushed, looking much appeased by his words. She reached up and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, gazing at him with love in her eyes. For a moment it appeared the lovers forgot they were not alone, but with a flustered look Amir cleared his throat and faced Christine once more.

"You have yet to tell me what brings you to the opera house, Mademoiselle," he questioned again. "Rehearsals for the festival will not begin until next week."

"I am looking for Erik," she confessed, bypassing any mention of Meg and going straight to her final goal, that of finding _her own_ fiancé. "I trust that I can count on your assistance in locating him." She peppered her last statement with just the hint of a threat, not willing to let the man out of her sight without the answers she sought.

"Who is this Erik?" Monique asked, looking from Christine to Amir and back again.

"He is my daughter's…er…fiancé," Charles spoke up, stumbling over the word yet managing to get it out without choking. "Perhaps you have seen him around, tall fellow, dark hair, wears a mask."

"A tall man with a mask?" Monique laughed nervously. "Surely you jest with me, Monsieur. As if you were indeed actively seeking the Opera Ghost, claiming that he and your daughter are engaged." Her laughter continued, not noticing that she alone was the only one finding the humor in all this.

"The Opera Ghost?" Christine repeated, recalling the vague references she had heard of this specter who was said to haunt the place, as well as the warning she and Victor had received the day they came for her audition. What had the lady said:_ that they should not get lost and perhaps stumble into his domain? _Was it possible that his _domain_ was underground…under the opera house perhaps? "And you say this ghost fits the description my father gave?"

"Oh, yes, the Phantom has been seen on several occasions," Monique was only too happy to relate, not at all taking note of Amir's pleading eyes, begging his future wife, and mother of his child, to keep silent. "He has haunted the Opera Garnier for years, and has been described as very tall, dresses all in black – from dark fedora to the flowing midnight cape. Yet even in the dead of night you can see the white mask he wears over his face and his eerie golden eyes that seem to glow in the dark. Every theatre should have a spirit to haunt the place, and we, Mademoiselle Daae, have the most impressive one of all."

"You don't say?" Christine remarked in a dry tone, looking at Amir with narrowed eyes. "I would very much like to hear more about this…Phantom, Mademoiselle."

Yet before the informative dancer could offer up any further insight on the matter, Amir broke in.

"Monique, my love," he began, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it nervously. "Didn't you say you needed to be at dance practice shortly? After all, very soon you will be unable to perform for a while and you do not wish to miss out on your final opportunities to showcase your talent. Perhaps it would be best to head off now, you do not want to be late."

Reaching down and checking the little time piece that was pinned to her jacket like a decorative broach, she gave a nod of agreement.

"Yes, where has the time gone?" she sighed, turning to Christine and Charles with a apologetic smile. "I would love to stay and chat further, but duty calls. After all, I would not wish to be tardy and incur the ghost's wrath. He is rather strict with the performers and even more so with the managers." She then leaned in to give Amir a final kiss farewell and with a wave, hurried off down the hall.

This left the three of them alone, Amir looking a bit sheepish while Christine and Charles eyed him rather suspiciously.

"Opera Ghost?" Christine asked, a hundred questions hidden in those two words.

"I can explain," he began, though he truthfully did not know where to start.

"I am sure you can," Christine nodded, but halted him from trying. "However, I would rather hear it from Erik's own lips. Lips I no longer know if I should kiss or slap, yet I desire the opportunity to decide for myself in person. Now tell me where I can find him!"

"You mean he did not come to see you last night?" This confused Amir, for when he left Erik's lair the previous afternoon, he thought for sure his masked friend had decided to visit the Daae flat that very night.

"If he had, do you think I would be running all over Paris looking for him?" Christine retorted, the frustration in her voice more than evident.

"Actually…" Charles began, feeling obligated to admit his suspicions about the mysterious stalker he had seen out the window, "he might have tried to visit…but was possibly deterred by my presence."

"What do you mean?" Christine asked, taking her accusing eyes off of Amir and placing them on her father. "What did you do?"

"I saw someone out the window, lurking in the shadows across the street last night," he began to confess. "I was not sure if it was truly him or not, so I did not say anything for fear I was wrong and might dash your hopes again. I left the flat and tried to approach him, intent on offering him my heartfelt apologies, but I could not find hide nor hair of the man. He had simply vanished."

"Sounds like Erik," Amir muttered, rolling his eyes as he imagined the whole scene in his mind's eye.

"You mean he came to see me…but left?" The hurt in her voice was evident and it pained Charles to know he was once again the cause.

"I did not mean to scare him off, Christine," Charles insisted. "If I had found him, I had every intention to invite him in and talk things out like you suggested. Perhaps I underestimated the impression I left on him, that of my intense dislike and unwillingness to forgive." He then looked at Amir, as if trying to justify himself to the foreign looking man. "I was very distraught when we first met and I am afraid I said some things that I now wish to take back, if only he would allow me the chance to do so. Please, Monsieur, I am not asking for myself, but for my daughter…please help us find him again."

Amir was silent, looking from one pair of pleading eyes to the other, trying to decide what to do. On one hand, he had become very fond of breathing, and now with Monique willing to marry him and a baby on the way, he hated the idea of just throwing his life away. However, Erik was his friend, or the closest thing to it, and he had already warned him that if he did not do something soon, he would step in and attempt to fix things himself. Well, he had given Erik a day…granted not a lot of time in the stream of things, but enough to justify interfering. So with a heavy sigh, he made up his mind to meddle in Erik's affairs, thus risking death and dismemberment. He only hoped it would be worth it in the end.

"Very well, Christine," he told her with a defeated smile. "I will take you to him."

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Anna had been wandering around for nearly twenty minutes admiring every ornate balcony and decorative statue placed around the opera house. Without even realizing it, she had begun to quietly sing the lullaby Erik had loved so much as she went, her mind drifting back to those precious months so many years ago. Soon, Anna made her way down the stairs and found herself in the season-ticket holders' rotunda, an amazing round room surrounded by sixteen fluted columns made of an expensive looking tan marble. There was something about this area that filled her with a sense of peace, the low ceiling and evenly spaced arched exits giving it an almost cave like feel. She could easily see Erik's hand in the creation of this room, for it reminded her of how comfortable he had felt in the basement where they had first discovered the pianoforte. She had just sat down on the circular, red velvet seat in the middle of the room when she heard it.

_Tapping._

At first she ignored it, thinking it was just people walking around on the floor above her, but as she listened closer, she heard a distinct pattern. When it had repeated itself several times she rose and went in search of the sound, the need to investigate urging her onward. It seemed to be coming from one of the arched alcoves, nestled between the twin staircase on either side leading back up to the grand entryway. Within the recess was a bronze statue of a woman and upon further inspection, Anna could see that it was in the likeness of Pythia, the priestess of Apollo and deliverer of the oracles. Yet, it was not the statue itself that captured her attention, but instead what appeared to be perched upon the woman's bare leg.

_A small, delicate paper swan. _

Anna stepped forward, reaching out with a shaking hand to lift it off and placed it in her palm with the utmost care. _Erik!_ He was here, she knew it! The tapping had been his way of leading her to him when he played hide and seek as a boy - always becoming impatient when it took her too long to discover his hiding place. Well, now she had found him at last, he could hide from her no longer.

"Erik?" she called out softly, not wanting anyone but him to hear her – and she knew he would, for his ears had always been keen. "Come out, Erik, don't hide from your Anna."

She felt a gust of air from behind her and even without a sound, she knew he was there. Slowly she turned around, holding her breath as she prepared herself for the moment she had dreamed of for twenty long years. And there he was, standing in front of her, the look in his haunted amber eyes causing her own to well up with tears. He was just as tall as Christine had described, his frame having filled out some, yet he retained that thin, whipcord appearance… only now accompanied by the aura of power. She gave an involuntary shiver at how daunting he appeared, his white mask a stark contrast against his black cashmere cloak and charcoal evening suit. No wonder Charles had been intimidated by him, he practically exuded the feeling of danger. Yet, Anna had no fear, and instead of giving a cry of fright or running from the room as most would, she instead opened her arms wide in a loving invitation. Her request was instantly granted as Erik lunged forward, falling to his knees as he wrapped his long arms around her middle, pressing his masked cheek to her stomach as he let out a heart-wrenching cry.

"Oh, Erik," she sobbed, holding him tightly around the shoulders as one hand lovingly stroked the back of his head, pleased to see his hair was no longer the patchy mess he sported as a child.

"Anna…I…I can't believe…" was all he could get out before a mixture of joy and relief overcame him, rendering him speechless.

"My darling boy," she whispered, as if she could not yet believe it was really him. "I have missed you so much and prayed every night for your safety. You cannot know how much it broke my heart to leave you that day…to go away knowing that you were left behind in the clutches of that horrid woman!"

"That is all in the past, Anna," he insisted, not wishing to even think of that terrible day so long ago. "I never blamed you for leaving. I wanted you to go…to be safe. I knew you had no choice."

"But I came back, Erik," she quickly informed him, "I came back to get you!"

At this he pulled away from her just enough so that he could tip his head up and look her in the face, his own mouth dropped open in shock.

"Y-y-you did?" he stammered, hardly able to believe her words, yet her eyes spoke true.

"Of course I did, I promised that I would and I never break a promise," she assured him, running her hand down the side of his face, tracing the edge of the mask that hid his constant shame from her eyes. "But you had left, Erik. I had come to beg Suzette to let me take you home with me, for I had since married a good man, Charles, and finally had something to offer you. I was determined not to leave that house empty handed, wishing to take you back to Sweden with us where you could have a true family…a family who loved you."

"Oh, Anna," Erik choked, wishing with all his heart that this had truly come to pass. Yet his impatience and fear for her safety had caused him to act too soon, running away before Anna had time to return. And return she had, to save him from his living nightmare…just as she had promised.

"When Christine told me who it was that had rescued her after her accident, I thought I was dreaming," she said, her words coming out in almost a laugh. "All these years I have wondered what became of you or if I would ever see you again. And here it was my own daughter who brought you back into my life. It is almost surreal."

"I…I had no idea who she was," Erik insisted, once more looking a bit nervous as the subject shifted to the woman he loved more than life. Anna might have remembered him fondly and was happy to see him again, but would she also be willing to accept his feelings for her only child? "Though in truth I should have realized it instantly, for she has inherited your unique and kind spirit. Still, if I had known she _was_ your daughter, the very child you had always dreamed of, I would never have dared to…I mean I would not have…" he let his voice trail off there, for in truth he had no idea what he would say. Would he have felt any different if he had known Christine's parentage? He loved her so completely now that it was impossible for him to imagine a time when she was not the center of his entire world.

"You would have grown to love her regardless," Anna finished for him, seeing how the thought had pained him. "I know my own child, and I can say without a doubt that you two were made for each other. She has told me of her love for you, Erik, and I can see the same emotions for her reflecting in your eyes as well. I had once dreamed of having you as my son, yet when I lost you that day, I feared that would never come to pass. Now I have a second chance…a chance to call you my son-in-law."

Erik looked up at her with all the hope in the world; could she truly be accepting him into her family this way? Giving her blessing to the prospect of him taking Christine's hand in marriage? This could not be happening…it was too perfect. But as his mind flashed back to his meeting with Charles Daae, he realized why…it _was_ too good to be true! He might have Anna's approval, but could he ever hope to win back her husband's good opinion? Erik sincerely doubted it.

"I find it difficult to believe that Christine's father will ever feel the same," he lamented, turning his head away in hopes that she would not see the utter disappointment in his eyes. "Our first encounter was…shall we say, less than stellar."

"I know all about it," Anna told him with a sympathetic smile. "And I fear that Charles acted poorly out of fear and desperation, for we both had been sorely grieved over the unexplained disappearance of Christine. He was completely taken by surprise and reacted…badly."

"He had every right to feel as he did," Erik spoke up, surprising even himself by coming to the man's defense. "What father would not have taken umbrage to having a monster such as I admit to keeping his only daughter hidden away, without the benefit of a chaperone, and then go so far as to attack him in his own home?"

"Erik! You are not a monster, and I never want to hear such things from your lips again!" It had been a very long time since she had scolded him for anything, but it made her heart glad to see that even now he took her words to heart and nodded in agreement, unwilling to offer further argument. "And from what I was told, by both Christine_ and_ Charles, his hurtful words merited such a reaction…and much more," this she said with a twinge of anger in her voice, even now a bit irritated by her husband's thoughtless words.

"Still…I should have controlled my temper," Erik was forced to admit. "It has always been my downfall, yet I swear I would never have harmed him, Anna. I could never have caused you or Christine such pain by doing so. I would sooner slit my own throat than see a single tear of sorrow run down your daughter's perfect cheek."

"I know, Erik…I know," she smiled, once more reaching out to touch his face in a motherly fashion. "You always did have a bit of trouble tempering your emotions," she said, recalling how he had thrown such a fit when he could not figure out his drawing that day. Anna gave Erik's hands a final squeeze before she turned and walked a few feet away, allowing her eyes to once more admire his architectural handiwork. "Although, I see that you finally solved your problem with the keystone," she laughed, looking back at him as she gestured to the opulence around her. "You built this, didn't you?"

"I had a hand in it," he modestly admitted, rising to his feet and straightening his jacket in an effort to compose himself. He could have shocked her by telling how much Garnier had relied on his designs and input, but he was unwilling to disclose the amount of sweat and hard work that went into the creation of the magnificent edifice around them.

"I recognize much of what I see from the sketches you did as a child," she told him, still in wonder of all he had done. "I saw your potential back then, Erik, but now…I can see you exceeded even my wildest expectations."

Erik could not help but stand a bit straighter at her words, reveling in the glow of parental pride emanating from the woman he had long ago wished could be his mother.

"Christine also tells me you have become a master musician and composer," she continued, walking back over to stand in front of him, having to crane her neck a bit in order to look him in the eyes. "That too does not surprise me in the least. I still have all your compositions and drawings you left in your room when you ran away. I took them with me when I came back for you, they were far too precious to leave to the likes of Suzette!"

"I thank you for that," Erik said with a nod of gratitude. "It pained me to leave them behind, yet I was set on traveling light."

"I…I never told Christine about you," Anna admitted, her eyes lowering as she spoke softly. "It was just too painful to remember how I was forced to leave you that day, and I could not bring myself to share that with anyone. In my heart you were already my son and to speak about how I had lost you was just too much. So you see, Christine fell in love with you all on her own, never knowing anything about our past or history. And I have you to thank for saving her life…not once, but three times, according to her. First from the river accident, then from doing herself harm in a moment of deep despair over losing her sight and finally by rescuing her from those vile men who accosted her on the street. You have given me back my baby, Erik, my child that for a while I feared I might never see again… just as I thought I had lost you."

"I would never allow any harm to come to Christine," Erik vowed, the mere idea causing a stab to his heart. "She is an angel, a creature of light and goodness itself…and if I were not such a selfish man, I would leave this place and never attempt to see her again. For she deserves so much better than me, Anna. Any child of yours deserves only the best."

"That is exactly what I told her just the other day," she admitted with a sly smile. "I fully believe the two of you belong together, for I cannot think of another couple better suited for each other. Your love for her is just as strong as hers is for you. No mother could be more proud than I am to know you two have found each other at last." Her smile faded here and she once more reached out to grasp at his hands. "Oh, Erik, you have no idea how I grieved to find that you had run away before I could come back for you," she continued, pouring out her heart as she wished for him to know everything. "However, I knew you had left of your own accord because you had taken my paper swan with you. It was not in the secret little cabinet along with your other treasures, and that knowledge alone gave me hope that you were somewhere…alive, safe and well." Here she recalled Christine's tale of how his life had taken a turn for the worse and her voice cracked on her next words. "But…but you were not safe or well…were you?"

By the tone of her voice, Erik realized instantly that Anna knew of his past. That she had either learned about his imprisonment with the gypsies or his time in Persia…perhaps both. He did not begrudge Christine for disclosing such things, for really it was expected that her parents would be curious about the man she had been staying with. And while it mortified him to no end that his beloved nanny knew his darkest secrets…she had every right to. He would hide nothing from her.

"Christine told you then?" he asked, turning around as he no longer felt worthy to look upon her tortured face.

"Oh, Erik, what they did to you…what they made you do!" Anna stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his back, hoping to convey comfort and acceptance. "Yes, Christine told us how the gypsies treated you, caging you like an animal and then in Persia…where you were forced to…to…" Here she stopped, unable to even speak the words out loud.

Erik was now overcome by shame; the idea that his Anna knew his past sins cut him to the bone. Besides Christine, she was the one person in this world whose opinion of him mattered most and now he felt as if he had let her down.

"I am sorry, Anna," he apologized, begging her forgiveness. "I failed you…I was not _good_ like you told me to be." He stepped away again, sitting down on the red tufted bench in the middle of the room as he held his trembling hands out before him, staring at them with hatred in his eyes. "I have killed, Anna. I have taken men's lives and caused such pain…so much pain. I can never wash the blood from these hands and they will forever be stained by the crimes I have committed."

"NO!" she almost shouted, rushing to his side and sitting down beside him. She then grabbed hold of the very hands he now seemed to hate, interlacing her own fingers with his. "You are not to blame! It was that man, that horrible man who made you kill. The boy I knew would never have been capable of such things if he had not been forced into it. And when I look at you now, I still see that same spark of goodness shining within you." She then lowered her head and covered her own face in shame, her next words coming out amid choking sobs. "It is I that must beg your forgiveness, Erik. Please forgive me for not being there to protect you against those evil gypsies and that abominable king. If I could, I would slay them all for what they did to you, my sweet darling boy."

"Shhhh, Anna," Erik soothed, leaning over and encircling her shoulders with his arm. Drawing her close to him, he did his best to pull himself together in order to comfort her. "Think no more of it, it was not _your_ fault and I never once blamed you. There is simply evil in this world that we cannot fight against, not as a helpless boy or even a strong man…sometimes we are destined to lose no matter what." For a moment he was silent, taking a deep breath as he gathered his wits and straightened up. "But not this time, Anna…not now! I have found you at last and you cannot begin to comprehend the joy this reunion gives me."

"I have wished for nothing else for so long, that I can hardly believe it is real," she laughed, smiling through her tears as she looked at him. "And to think, you are not only back in my life, but you have bound yourself to my darling Christine as well. You cannot understand what this does for my old heart, Erik. I am overcome with joy!"

"Yet what about your husband…Charles?" Erik asked, still wary about the influence he might have over their union.

"Charles will…" Anna began, about to say that he would do what was best for Christine, but her words were halted by a woman calling her name from the top of the stairs.

"Madame Daae…are you down there?" came the distinctive voice Erik knew to be Antoinette Giry.

Anna turned and stood up, taking a few steps towards the stairs, as she answered the woman in a raised voice.

"I will be right there," she responded quickly and then turned back to Erik…but he was gone! Spinning around in circles, her eyes searching every corner, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Erik?" she whispered, her voice becoming urgent. "Erik…where are you?"

"Pardon, Madame?" the stoic woman dressed in black asked as she descended the steps, giving Anna a perplexed look. "Were you speaking with someone?"

"I…that is, I was…" Anna stammered, still amazed at Erik's ability to disappear into thin air. However, he had proven himself the little magician back when he was young, why wouldn't he have only improved with time? "No…I was just admiring the building and lost track of time."

"Well your husband is searching everywhere for you and is becoming quite frantic over your absence," Madame Giry informed her, gesturing for her to head back up to the entryway. "He has enlisted my help, along with several other employees, to search for you, causing us to expend valuable time that we should be devoting to our own duties."

"My apologies, I did not mean to cause you any trouble," Anna told her, rather contritely as she followed the woman's cue and headed back to where Charles had left her originally. She stopped for just a moment though and gave one last look around the rotunda, desperately trying to catch any glimpse of where Erik might have gone, but it was no use.

"Are you sure you are all right, Madame Daae?" Antoinette questioned again, noting how distracted the woman she was sent to find appeared to be.

"Yes…perfectly fine, thank you," Anna assured her, reaching into her pocket and patting the small paper swan that now rested there. Holding her head high, she then made her way up the stairs, suddenly happier than she had been in years. She may not know where he had disappeared to just now, but she knew it was not the last time she would see her darling Erik. He was alive, he was well and he was in love with her daughter. That alone would guarantee they met again.

"Anna! Where have you been?" Charles called to her, hurrying down the grand marble staircase to meet her as she emerged from the bottom floor. "I came back only to find you gone. You mustn't worry me like that…I am afraid I have already endured all the strain my poor heart can take over the past few weeks."

"I am sorry, Charles, truly I am," she told him regretfully. "I did not mean to worry you. I was only looking around and got a bit…well, distracted. Look what I found!" She then reached into her pocket and brought out the little swan, unfolding its delicate wings as she laid it in her palm. Anna watched as her husband's eyes grew wide, instantly understanding the significance of the paper figurine.

"He…he was here?" Charles questioned in a low whisper, not wanting anyone to overhear their conversation.

"I spoke with him," Anna confessed, the excitement in her voice undeniable. "Oh, Charles, he is just like I remembered…and exactly like Christine described. It was as if all those years fell away and we were able to pick up where we had left off. I have so much to tell you about him!"

"I have a few things to tell you as well," Charles informed her, making her raise an eyebrow at his cryptic words. "But not here…I think it best we head back to our flat before speaking further."

"Where is Christine?" Anna asked, suddenly noticing her daughter's absence.

"That is one of the things I have to tell you," he answered, taking Anna by the arm and gently steering her towards the exit. "You are not going to believe half of what I have to say!"

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Out on the street and around the corner on the Rue Scribe, Amir led Christine to the secret entrance to Erik's underground home.

"I am sure there is a way to get to his home from within the Opera Garnier, but he has never seen fit to share it with me," he explained, pushing open the old metal gate that served as a barrier and deterrent to the morbidly curious. Reaching up on his tip-toes he retrieved a small lantern he had apparently stashed away for the sole purpose of lighting his way on trips like these. After striking a match and causing the wick to dance with a merry flame, he held it up high and led the way forward. "Yet this will sufficiently get you to where you need to be, I only hope he is currently out, for I am not looking forward to facing him once he finds out I agreed to escort you down to his lair…uninvited."

"I will take full responsibility for this, Amir," she assured him, not wanting him to catch any heat over this seeming act of betrayal. "Just get me to his home and I will handle it from there."

"I am very sorry it has come to this, my dear," the Persian man told her as he took her through a veritable labyrinth of passageways and tunnels. How he did not get lost or turned around was beyond her. "Erik told me of the encounter he had with your father and the resulting friction between them. He greatly laments his part in the confrontation and wishes only for a reconciliation between the two of you."

"There is nothing that needs reconciled," Christine insisted. "It was all a silly misunderstanding and if I could only see him again, I will be able to convince him of that. I still love him with all my heart and as long as he feels the same, nothing will stop us from being together…not even his unfounded worries or his stubborn pride!"

This made Amir laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls and causing an eerie echoing effect.

"It would appear that Erik has indeed met his match in you, my good woman," Amir informed her. "He has needed someone willing to take him in hand and keep him focused on something besides his sins and faults. I have told him many times that he has great potential…he just needed you to bring it out."

"I will do my best, Monsieur," Christine smiled. "But first I need to speak with him, face to face. There have been far too many misunderstandings between us and it is high time we lay our cards on the table, so to speak."

"Just be careful, Christine," Amir once more warned, a wry smile coming to his lips. "For as I recall…Erik has been known to cheat when playing cards."

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Erik had not wanted to part with Anna so soon, there was still so much to say…so much to catch up on. But Madame Giry's unexpected appearance had ended their reunion rather abruptly, causing him to reenter the secret tunnels in order to preserve his ghostly identity. He had watched her disappear back up the stairs, all the while longing to burst forth and follow her, just as he had wished to do back when he was eight years old. Yet this time he knew where she would go, where he could find her again. And come hell or high water, Anna Daae would be getting a visit from the Phantom this very night!

With his errand of delivering a letter to her no longer necessary - mostly since he had been forced to use his intended correspondence to form the little paper swan he had used as his calling card - Erik decided it was best that he head back down to his home and see if any final touches needed to be made on his rubber mask. He would need it tonight when he went calling and even though Anna had already seen him with his white mask on, Charles had not…and in truth neither had Christine. He shivered as he thought of how she might react at beholding his disfigured face for the first time with her now healed eyes. He had put her off once when she asked to see him, he doubted he could do so a second time and retain her trust. Still, to show her what lay beneath the mask might prove to be his undoing, driving her away like he always believed he might if she were to see him fully. It was a gloomy subject, and one he did not wish to entertain further, not after the utter joy of seeing his Anna again. So all the way back down to his underground home, he chose to focus on that happy reunion, the thought bringing a warm smile to his face.

When he arrived at his hidden door he tripped the secret lock and pushed it open, hanging his cape on the hook provided as he headed for the parlor. Yet two steps into the hall he stopped. Something was wrong…_he was not alone!_ No sound was made yet he could feel the presence of another human within the confines of his protective domain and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his Punjab lasso, the thin piece of catgut all too familiar in his hand as he readied himself for battle. If this turned out to be Amir, having entered his home uninvited, he just might kill the man on principle, forgetting their tentatively formed alliance over the past few days. Yet, as he stepped into the doorway, his eyes scanning the parlor in one assessing glance, his heart all but stopped in his chest.

_Christine!_

There she was, standing in the middle of the room, her back turned to him as she looked around. He wanted to run, he wanted to cry…but most of all, Erik wanted to take her into his arms and never let her go. He must have made some sort of noise because she suddenly turned around, her eyes falling upon his figure for the first time since her sight had fully returned. He watched as she looked him up and down, from the tip of his head down to his patent leather shoes and then came back up to rest upon his masked face. Her expression was unreadable, her body language revealing nothing and he found he was holding his breath in expectation of what she might say. Yet, when she finally spoke, it was the last thing he imagined.

"Erik," she began, placing one hand on her hip while the other pointed just above the mantle of the fireplace. "Please tell me that is _not_ the painting I did when I was still blind! It is absolutely horrible!"

* * *

**SOOOOOO? How did you like the Erik/Anna reunion? Was it all you hoped it would be? Did I get ANY tears?**

**And were you shocked that after all that planning they did to find Meg and Victor, it was Amir who showed her the way?**

**How did you like your first glimpse of Monique?**

**Charles is coming along nicely, right?**

**Did the paper swan hit you in the feels?**

**I hope you are all happy now and if you still have one, now might be a good time to use your snippet card. ha ha.**


	43. Chapter 43

**Sorry for the order mix up on the alerts yesterday...I swear I sent them out IN ORDER, but the FF site was doing updates again and something got turned around in the sending.**

**And why am I posting today...*******FP33 gives a shrug*...** ummm, I don't know. **

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**Guest Reviews:**

**Grandma Paula:** Oh yes, Christine is just FULL of information now! Erik will not be happy about it though, ha ha. Yes, I too think a wedding is in order! I just HAD to bring the swan back in and wow...three reads? And that is a lot of pressure, you saying that you LIVE for this story...what happens when it is done? I KNOW! You wait for my NEXT one to come out! ha ha.

**Cora:** I thought it would be fun to have her break the ice with humor. ha ha.

**PhantomChristine:** Oh yes, the CAD is winning the Phans back, ha ha. Glad you loved the reunion!

**EllaGuest:** Erik might be a genius, but he is bad at reading people and situations. ha ha. They do indeed deserve a lot...a lot of love, understanding and one big fat happy ending!

**Ziro:** I am glad it made you happy. You just process all you want.

**Syrianlight:** Charles has always been reasonable...in his own mind! I don't think finding Erik will be as hard as they thought...ha ha. Through the window? He is not Spider-man! I am glad you liked the cuddles. I got laughter and tears? Prefect. Ha ha, what a cute mental image you had there, too funny. I usually give Amir the hard assignments, Victor would have crumbled under Christine's glare of death. ha ha. Monique is very attached to her Persian Prince...don't touch! Yep, she wants him to take that horrible painting down NOW. ha ha.

**TheRebbs98:** Gosh I hope not, that would make me a horrible person...like William Radcliff! (from MBTM) Charles will make sure Erik deserves her...that much is true. No...no Raoul...not yet. YOU CRIED LIKE A BABY? THAT is very flattering. *hands out tissues* Erik is bias about the painting. It IS horrible...it really is. Trust me. Amir WAS the lady's man...now he is a ONE WOMAN MAN. He will explain it very carefully. ha ha. Thanks.

**PhanGuest:** Only almost? I will take it. ha ha. Yep, blabber mouth Sorelli just couldn't keep her yap shut, ha ha. And you are probably right, Christine loves him way too much by now. Thank you very much for saying so, it is so nice to hear that about something I truly love to do. WRITING it has been a wonderful journey for me and to have shared it with others makes it even more special.

**Mystery: ** Hey, I totally understand BUSY. Take your time.

**Guest:** Thank you and you are very welcome!

**Guest:** Erik did indeed help Amir, and Amir SHOULD help Erik and then Anna can swoop in and save the day! Sorry about your technical problems! Happens to the best of us!

**Guest:** OH NO! No brother and sister relationship here! Charles is trying to make amends. You can take my promise of a happy ending to the bank...I have already written it...IN STONE. ha ha. LOVED your whole Raoul scenario...umm, sorry that did not happen...BUT I think you will like what WILL take place! ha ha.

**Guest:** I did jam pack that one with FEELS! *FP33 waits patiently while the guest melt into a pile of emotions* The O.G. talk is heading your way! Amir is kind of fond of breathing. Well, she has a point, her painting WAS ugly. ha ha. OH yes, getting VERY close with the reviews! Only 155 to go! That is about 3 chapters worth if everyone reviews!

** Khonsuthot**: I am sorry you had a terrible day, but I am glad this helped. And yes, I think to some extent, ERik will always feel like a little boy when around Anna...doesn't ALL men feel that way around their MOMS? ha ha.

**MlleNikki:** Glad my warning helped some people, what a mix up! So happy you liked the reunion. And I thought it was important that Christine break the ice with humor. ha ha.

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**Thanks to all who enjoyed the Erik and Anna reunion. I hope it was all you wished for it to be.**

**Now...about that Christine and Erik reunion...**

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**Chapter 43**

**The Opera Ghost Unmasked**

* * *

Erik stood there and simply stared at Christine, not knowing what to say or how to react. Her comment about her painting had stunned him and he felt the right old idiot for not having the presence of mind to respond in any fashion. She was so beautiful and he found that all his eyes wished to do was drink her in like a man dying of thirst. Yet to his horror, he realized as he looked at her, she was in turn looking back at him…and this time _seeing_ him as well! This made him horribly uncomfortable and he wished he could turn away or conceal himself in some way, yet none of that was possible and he knew it.

"What…what are you doing here?" he asked, finally finding his voice. "How did you…" Then suddenly realization struck him and he felt his face grow hot with rage. "Amir! It was that damned intrusive Persian, wasn't it?" Erik fumed, his hands balling into fists as he yearned to feel them wrapped around the meddling man's neck. "He never knows when to keep his nose out of things! I will kill him for sure this time, I swear it!"

His murderous statement only caused Christine to roll her eyes and give a slight huff.

"Oh, stop it," she scolded. "You are not going to do anything to him and you know it. This odd friendship of yours, and the way you two choose to express it, is becoming tiresome." She then took a few steps closer to him as her voice softened. "If anyone is to blame for my being here, it is me. My original plan was to locate Victor and get him to tell me where I could find you, but I ran into Amir first. I begged him to bring me."

"Then you picked your prey wisely, for while Victor has enough sense to fear me and keep his mouth shut, that foolish Daroga has no such affinity for self-preservation," Erik grumbled.

"Well I really did not leave him much choice," she said with a sly smile. "You might even say I threatened him. Perhaps I have been hanging around you a bit too much."

Christine had meant this as a joke, something to lighten the mood, yet Erik mistook it for criticism over his foul temper and quickly began to implore her forgiveness.

"I cannot tell you how ashamed I am over how I acted towards your father, Christine," he began, also taking a step or two closer until they were only a foot apart. "If I could take back what I did and what I said I…"

"Erik, stop!" Christine insisted, halting his next words. "I do not blame you for your actions the other night. My father was both unreasonable and highly offensive to me as well as you. He has seen the errors of his ways and laments the part he played in what happened. He very much wishes to make amends and he would like you to come back so he can apologize."

"And you?" Erik asked, a bit shocked by what he was hearing. "Do you wish for me to come back as well?"

"I never wanted you to leave in the first place!" she firmly insisted.

Suddenly Erik could stand it no longer and before he knew what he was doing, he had her in his arms, pressing her warm little body desperately to his.

"Oh, Christine, I have missed you," he mumbled as he rested his cheek against the top of her head, relishing the feeling of her arms as they slipped around his torso.

"Not half as much as I have missed you," she insisted, burying her face in his chest. "I was so afraid I would never see you again, since I had no way of finding you or knowing where you lived. Would you have simply left me, Erik? Were you planning on coming back to me?"

"I wish I could say I would have been strong enough to walk away, to allow you to find a better life than what I would tie you to," he said in a grieved tone. "Yet, I could not bring myself to do so. You were all I could think of and no matter how hard I tried, your face would not leave my mind. I could no more have walked away from you than I could stop breathing. For both would have been the death of me."

"Then you still love me?" her voice was muffled as she spoke but Erik could still hear the fear in her question.

"More than I ever thought humanly possible," Erik assured her, pulling her back as he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. His words and action caused her to give a sigh of relief as a smile played at her lips.

"Why didn't you tell me, Erik?" she questioned. When he gave her a perplexed look she elaborated. "About my mother. Why didn't you tell me that she had been your nanny when you were little?"

"I…I do not know," he admitted, not quite sure himself. "I only found out the other day when you sang that lullaby to me after my nightmare. I recognized it as the same one she used to sing to me, and after quizzing you on a few things, it suddenly became obvious that my long lost Anna was indeed your mother. I suppose I was still in shock over the revelation and wished to see for myself if she remembered me before I spoke about it."

"She does remember you, Erik," Christine insisted, looking up at him as tears began to blur her vision.

"I know," he confessed. "I just spoke with her up in the opera house. She was wandering alone through the building and I had a chance to converse with her in private, until we were interrupted by Madame Giry who had been sent in search of her."

"I am glad that you two were able to reunite," Christine told him, though she was a bit disappointed that she had not been there for the touching reunion. Yet, perhaps it was best that it was done without an audience, for she was certain that both had been overcome with emotion. "I found it a bit strange, however, to learn that your home lies below the Opera Garnier, Erik. Just how long did you plan on keeping that little secret from me? And all that driving around whenever we went above…quite the subterfuge I must say."

"Forgive me, Christine…I…I have no excuse for my lies other than fear," he begged. "It is true that I have built my home beneath the very place you wished to perform. For until you came along, music had been my life and I wished to be as close to it as I could…thus the location seemed perfect."

"Well, it was a bit of a surprise, but I have to admit that it makes perfect sense, knowing you as well as I now do," Christine chuckled, a sly grin crossing her lips as she continued to stare up at him. "I am just glad it was you and not the fabled _Opera Ghost_ who found my mother while she was wandering around, for I hear he haunts the place and is a rather ominous character. Perhaps you have heard of him, Erik? After all, I am told that you two have quite a bit in common."

Erik shut his eyes and gave a heavy sigh. It was more than obvious from her tone that Christine was now fully aware of his secret identity. He wondered if he had the tattling Daroga to thank for it as well. This was one of the last things he wished to discuss at the moment, yet realized he had very little choice. If he were to prove himself worthy of Christine's love, he needed to stop lying and confess the whole truth.

"It is true," he nodded sadly. "I have been masquerading as a phantom in order to sway those two foolish managers into doing what was monetarily and artistically beneficial for the Opera Garnier. For without my direction, it would have long ago fallen into debt and ruin, had _they_ been left solely in charge!"

Christine could hear the conviction as well as a touch of pride in Erik's tone and she could not help but smile because of it.

"I do not doubt that you have been an amazing asset to the company," she assured him, running her hands up his chest in an effort to assuage his irritation. "Even Mademoiselle Sorelli called you the best ghost around and spoke your praises."

"She did?" this shocked Erik, never thinking anyone saw him as anything more than a nuisance and something to fear.

"That she did, and I am willing to bet that many others feel the same way," she chuckled a bit before adding, "Well, perhaps not the managers, but really, who likes to be told what to do all the time…especially by someone calling themselves the Opera Ghost?" Suddenly Christine's smile faded and she took a step back, looking up at him with a measure of concern and fear. "Did _you_ have anything to do with my being put through to the finals for the festival? Was it the Opera Ghost who convinced the managers to accept me?"

"NO!" Erik quickly insisted, reaching out and gripping her gently by the arms. "I swear I had nothing to do with that, it was all you, Christine. Your voice and talent won you the spot in the festival, you must believe me!"

"And you never threatened them or insisted that they let me audition?" she pressed, examining his eyes closely to ascertain the truth.

"The only thing I did was reschedule your audition, the very one you had won for yourself by your original performance back in Sweden. I never sent a single note or made one threatening demand concerning you, Christine. No one would ever dream of associating your name with that of the Phantom. You were asked to perform in the festival all on your own merits. Of this I swear!"

She was quiet for a moment, lost in contemplation, yet his earnest insistence finally won out.

"I believe you, Erik," she nodded, knowing full well that he would never lie to her about something this serious. "But you must also promise me that you will not interfere during the festival either. Win or lose, I wish to do so on my own, not because people fear retribution from an unseen ghost if I do not take first place."

"I swore to myself, and to that damned Persian, that I would not manipulate the judges in any fashion," Erik revealed. "Yet since I am certain you will outshine all the others and be offered the position anyway, it really does not matter what I do."

"It will matter to me, Erik!" Christine warned him, placing her hands on her hips as she gave him a stern look. "Just please, let me win or fail on my own. No meddling. Promise me!"

"I already told you I would not, and I will keep my word," Erik insisted firmly.

"Thank you," Christine said, a warm smile returning to her lips. "And as long as you are in a promise keeping mood…would you care to fulfil one you made to me a few days back?"

"Which one is that?" he asked, looking a bit perplexed by her cryptic words.

"The one where you promised to remove your mask and allow me to see your face?" she reminded him. "You said once my sight had fully returned you would do so…and I can see just fine now."

Erik's heart plummeted at her words, having feared this moment ever since her vision had begun to improve.

"Christine…please do not ask this," he begged, dreading the instant she would behold his worst feature with her own eyes. Would she still love him after seeing his face? He highly doubted it.

"Erik, what are you afraid of?" she questioned, not fully understanding his reluctance. "I have felt what you hide behind your mask…do you think what I see will make any difference? If you truly love me, you will trust me enough to show me what it is you hide."

Erik's nightmare from the other night instantly sprang to mind. She had said almost the same words in his dream and had ended up screaming in terror as she slipped from his grasp, leaving him a broken shell of a man. Dare he tempt fate and see the same thing repeated in real life? Could he bring himself to show his dearest angel the face of death? His only hope was that Christine had inherited the same unfathomable acceptance and compassion that Anna possessed. His little angel had showed many times that she had the capacity to overlook his flaws…he now desperately prayed that Christine would rise to the occasion one last time.

"Very well," he sighed, his heart practically beating out of his chest as he raised his hands to remove the barrier that hid his shame. It took him a few extra seconds, but soon the mask was being lowered and he fearfully turned from her gaze…waiting for the reaction that would define the rest of his life.

Christine stared at him for what seemed an eternity, though in truth was only a few seconds. It was even worse than she had imagined, her mother's detailed description doing little to lessen the shock of what she was at last allowed to see with her own eyes. Still, Christine did not flinch…she did not gasp, and neither did she turn away. He had once described himself as a monster, a beast and even a corpse…yet to her, he was just Erik. The man she loved more than life itself. When he still refused to meet her gaze, she raised her hand, gently touching his cheek and turning him back to face her.

"Erik, never look away from me in shame," Christine began, her expression unreadable as she stepped even closer, her body now touching his own. "I understand your fear, your dread of being cast off, of being unaccepted. I too have felt that, suffered because of it, but you never once turned away from me. For being there when I needed you, when I was alone and broken, you have kindled in me a love that will never fade. To me, Erik Trouville, you will always be nothing less than…beautiful!" she finished, as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, sealing her love for him with a kiss.

Erik did not know how to react…at first. But all too quickly his brain and body responded to her display of affection and he was pulling her into his arms, deepening the kiss as he poured all his fear, pain and anxiety into the comforting act. _She was his!_ Even without the mask she still loved him and from that moment on he knew he would do anything for her. He would lie, cheat, steal and even kill to keep and protect her. She was all he ever wanted, all he could possibly need and the fact that she loved him made everything worthwhile.

"I love you," he whispered over and over again, once their lips had parted. He refused to release her from his embrace though, never wanting her farther than arm's reach.

"That is all I have wanted to hear for the past two days," she revealed, snuggling into his chest as she hummed in contentment. "And I do hope now that my parents are here and my sight has returned, we will commence with preparations for our wedding."

"You still wish to be my bride?" he asked, still a bit shocked that she actually loved him, let alone that she still wanted to marry him.

"More than ever!" Christine assured him, tipping her head back as she looked up at his unmasked face. "We will have the most wonderful life together," she insisted. "One full of music, laughter, love and everything we both have ever wished for."

"Everything except…children," Erik heard himself say, his tone betraying the misery he felt in the admission.

"What?" It was now Christine's turn to look upset, not quite understanding what Erik was talking about. "Why would we not have children?"

"Oh, Christine," Erik moaned, detaching himself as he turned and took a few steps away from her. "Is it not obvious? Can you not guess why we can never become the family you always dreamed of? Just look at me! I would never dare to father children with such a legacy as this to pass on to an innocent babe."

Christine was stunned into silence, unable to process the words he had just spoken. No children? Yet when she closed her eyes at night she could picture them so easily in her mind. A little boy with dark hair and Erik's expressive eyes and a little girl with blond hair and a bright smile, both of them laughing and playing at her feet as she held yet another babe in her arms. It had been her dream…a dream she longed to share with no one but Erik. Yet when he turned to look at her, with an expression of pure misery and self-loathing, all she could do was…_love him._

"I…I don't know what to say," she whispered, her face still a mixture of shock and confusion.

"Say what you feel," he instructed. "Tell me what a horrible and selfish man I am for denying you the one thing you desire. Heap your abusive words upon me, for I deserve them all and more. And yet…" at this his voice broke and he fell to his knees before her, taking her hands in his as he beseeched in the most pitiful voice imaginable, "…please do not abandon me, my angel. I could no longer live without your encouragement to do so. I will give you diamonds, pearls and all the comforts this world has to offer. Just, I beg of you, do not leave me."

"I…I would never…" she stammered, before squaring her shoulders, doing her best to appear unaffected by his words. "I would never desert you, Erik. I love you far too much to ever dream of doing so." Here she stopped and took a deep breath, attempting to sound as convincing as possible as she forced herself to look down into his eyes and lie for his sake. "And who says I even want children? Did I not tell you once that I was the independent sort and wished to pursue a career? Turning down other suitors who only wished to tie me to hearth and home."

"That is true," Erik agreed, a sad smile coming to his lips as he saw through her fragile attempt to deceive him. "Yet you also confessed that having a family of your own was very important. You said you always dreamed of being a mother and wished to have three or four children, one with your mother's blond hair and one with your father's smile."

"I…I never said…how could you know this?" Christine was stunned that he had this knowledge, when she could not recall telling him any of it. Her knees gave out just then and she sank down onto the settee, as Erik quickly rose from his kneeling position to sit beside her. "When did I ever say that?"

"The night you were inebriated on the Aragh Sagi," he informed her, almost daring her to deny that this was indeed her dream. "You told me you wanted to be a mother and I am certain that Anna and your father wish to be grandparents as well. But if you marry me, Christine, we can never dare to have any of our own, for fear I should pass on my deformity to any children you might bear." He took her hands in his, looking down at them as he rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. "It is not something I can change and I could not live with myself if I were to condemn an innocent babe to the life I was forced to endure because of my appearance. You will never be a mother or give birth to a child - not with _me_ as your husband. That is simply the way it will have to be. And if you cannot live with this, if being a mother is too important to you…I will not stand in your way should you choose to leave. It will destroy me for sure, however, I love you far too much to ever deny you your heart's desire."

"You are all my heart desires, Erik!" she insisted, throwing her arms around him as she held him tight. "Yes, I might grieve the loss of children in our lives, but no one says our future happiness depends on having little ones running around at our feet. Look at my parents…they chose to marry even though my mother thought she could never conceive. Do you think they had resigned themselves to a lifetime of despair over that fact? No, we can have a full and happy life together, I know we can! Do not throw our love away simply because we may never have one aspect of marriage fulfilled." She stopped there and hesitated for a moment before proceeding. "Besides…we could always adopt a child, couldn't we, Erik? Find some little one who needs a home and parents to love them? Please say you will at least think about it? Do not shut the door completely on the chance for children, even if they are not our own flesh and blood."

"I…I am open to that idea," Erik nodded eagerly, grasping at any thread of hope that would keep Christine tied to him.

"Thank you, Erik," she whispered, leaning in to kiss his lips ever so gently.

"I do not deserve you, Christine," Erik sobbed, burying his face in her hair as he thanked his lucky stars for all that she was. "You are far too good for the likes of me and I swear that I will fill your life with so much of my love and devotion, that you will never know want. I will do anything for you, this I swear, Christine."

"Anything?" she questioned, a tone of mischief creeping into her voice.

"Just say the word and it is yours," he swore.

"Then tell me truthfully…what else did I say or do when I was under the influence of that bottle of Aragh Sagi?" she insisted. "You told me I did nothing embarrassing…yet suddenly I find I am doubting your word on that." She then pulled away so that she could see his expression and her eyes narrowed a bit as she saw his look of guilt. "Erik?"

"Well…" he began, his unmasked face now showing the redness of embarrassment as he refused to look her in the eye. "You did…kind of…well…you kissed me. Quite passionately!"

"Oh…" was all she could say, her mind spinning in a desperate attempt to recall the details of that night. "How…passionately?"

"Enough to feed my dreams for quite some time," he confessed, a wolf like grin spreading over his face. "And I will not lie…I enjoyed it quite a bit. Especially when you admitted that you were looking forward to…to fulfilling_ every_ aspect of married life with me."

"I…I said that?" Christine's palms came up to cover her now burning cheeks as her eyes grew wide with shock. "Oh, Erik, what you must have thought of me!"

"I admit I was quite pleased by the idea," Erik informed her, hoping to lessen her embarrassment. "Though some of the thoughts I was having at the time, left me afraid that you might think _me_ a lecherous cad."

This made Christine giggle slightly, yet she was unable to meet his eyes for a moment as she contemplated some of his possibly less than pure notions.

"So…the long and the short of it is that we both admitted to having…_intimate feelings_ for one another?" she concluded, nodding her head as if she were figuring out an intricate puzzle.

"It would appear so," he agreed, yet her somewhat stunned expression caused his fear to rise to the surface once more. "However, if you have changed your mind after seeing my face, I…I would completely understand and not hold you to your previous words. All I ask is that you allow me to be near you, for I fear I would quickly perish otherwise."

"I have not changed my mind, Erik," she whispered, moving in close once more as she ran her hands up his chest and encircled him around the neck. "In fact…it would seem that the closer I get to you the more I realize just how much I can't wait to become your bride…or to share our wedding night." Christine paused for a moment and looked deep into his eyes. "I don't care about your mask, your past or the fact that we may never be able to have children. _You_ are all I will ever need and there is no way you are getting rid of me now, Erik Trouville. You are stuck with me for life!"

"And I would not have it any other way," he agreed, leaning in and claiming her lips as his…for all eternity.

* * *

**Well, that was some heavy conversation!**

**But it looks like they plan to stick it out and hang together. True love conquers all.**

**And Erik had to fess up about what Drunk Christine said and did. Oh the truth will always come out, remember that boy!**

**Now...about the whole baby thing. Can we talk for a moment Erik...**

**For those with snippet cards...I would suggest you use them soon or it might be too late. We are getting very close to the Mass Posting Goal, and I would hate for you to sit on them too long and they go to waste. Just saying. Use-em, or lose-em.**


	44. Chapter 44

**Ok, back on the regular posting schedule...until I just flip out and start posting bonus chapters willy-nilly. ha ha. You just never know about me! And only 90 more reviews to go and then I will MASS POST.  
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**But...if I do that...how will I respond to all my faithful guest reviewers - since I always speak to them in the NEXT chapter? I will have to think on it.**

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**Gust Reviews:**

**PhanGuest:** REAL TEARS? *YES!* Christine does love him a lot and he is open to adoption, the sweet boy that he is. And yah...things MIGHT change when Anna starts talking. ha ha. One reader gave Erik a gold star for telling the truth - and he is wearing it proudly. There is only 50 chapters...and no matter how fast or slow I post, that is all there is...no more. Sorry.

**Guest**: Yes, I am shocked that Raoul has not showed up either...where IS that boy?

**Ziro:** Perfect? Wow, thanks!

**Guestxx:** Thanks for reading! I hope it measures up with the others you have read! Ha ha, Suzette was not your favorite person I take it. ha ha.

**Guest22**: I did do a bit of a time jump between him being 10 and 30ish...but the story would have been TOO long if I tried to do the 20 years in between. And people were a bit antsy for Christine to make her appearance. ha ha.

**Mystery:** The fact that you gave a squeal when Anna saw the paper swan makes me smile. And why were you at Mount Doom? Have you been migrating over to the LOTR FF site? I did like the gift you brought back...so much better than a ring that makes you invisible. ha ha. Yah...thre is a LOT of things left to do, talk about and get through before I write 'the end' ha ha. Erik better say THANK YOU! Raoul will come. The final question remains to be seen. Christine already said she wanted four kids. Erik will NOT be performing the ceremony, ha ha. but love that idea. ha ha. And here is your speedy new chapter!

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**Chapter 44**

**Father-in-law and Friend**

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Erik and Christine spent the next several hours cuddled on the settee, exchanging innocent touches and heartfelt kisses amidst conversation. They had a lot to catch up on, both of them filling in the blanks about what had transpired over the past two days apart. Christine was very interested to hear the story about Amir and how he had suddenly become engaged. When she learned that he was also to be a father, she was shocked.

"And all this time, I had no idea he was even seeing anyone…well, not seriously at least," she added, thinking back to the one time he had mentioned that he had a lady waiting for him after he had come down to congratulate her on her audition.

"I believe that the relationship grew serious without either one noticing, until it had taken on a life of its own…quite literally," Erik added with a wicked smile, proud of his little play on words. Yet when he saw the flash of sadness in Christine's eyes over the mention of the baby, he quickly changed the subject. "And what occupied your time in my absence?"

"Mostly telling my parents all about you," she informed him with a smile of adoration. "Of course once my mother knew your name, it was not too hard a sell."

"I am willing to bet it was not so with your father," Erik added ruefully.

"Well, it did take him a bit longer to come around, but he will not stand in the way of our happiness. And he would never dare cross my mother," Christine said with a laugh. "He will bend over backwards in an effort to make her happy."

"I know the feeling," Erik told her, placing a kiss on her forehead as they continued to snuggle side by side. "You do know I would place the world at your feet if it be your wish."

"I only wish to be your wife, and you have already promised me that," she reminded him with a contented sigh. Just then the clock struck seven, causing Christine to sit up straight, a look of concern on her face. "Is it truly that late? Oh, Erik, we must be going!"

"Going where?" he questioned, hating the idea of moving from this lovely spot.

"Back to my parents' flat," she insisted, standing up as she tugged at his arm in an effort to make him rise. "They will be wondering what had kept us and I am certain they are expecting us to return before it gets too late. They may be willing to overlook the fact that I stayed here unchaperoned while there was a need for it…but now? I think it is in our best interest to not cause them any further worry or stress."

"Very well, for the sake of your pristine reputation, I will begrudgingly agree to escort you back to your home," Erik said with a groan of complaint.

"_This_ is my home, Erik," she corrected, wrapping her arms around him once more now that he was standing. "You are my heart and I can only live in the shadow of your love…but until we exchange vows, I must abide by my parents' wishes and remain under _their_ roof."

"I do understand," he assured her. "I would never wish for them to imagine that I have taken any liberties with you. Until we are officially wed, I will remain your chaste admirer, willing to worship you from afar."

"Just not _too_ far," she insisted. "I do not handle it well when you are away from me. Promise me that you will not disappear on me again, even if you are the Opera Ghost!"

"I couldn't even if I wished to," Erik vowed. "You are the air I breathe, the force that sustains my heart and the very life I live. You are everything to me, Christine. I would surely perish without you."

"Then perhaps I should make sure to remain near _you_," she teased, reaching up to offer him her lips as insurance that he continue living.

Erik, never one to turn down a golden opportunity, claimed them with great enthusiasm, savoring the taste, touch and smell of her. She was intoxicating.

.

.

Yet soon they forced themselves to end their amorous display of affection and indeed made their way through the tunnels and back out into the Parisian streets. The sun had just set so Erik did not worry too much about being recognized, and since he no longer needed to make her believe they came from the outskirts of town, they chose to walk the handful of blocks to her parents' flat instead of taking a cab. With his hat pulled down and the fair Christine on his arm, who would have ever dreamed that a Phantom walked among the unsuspecting people on the street? Erik soon discovered that a beautiful lady was almost a better disguise than his rubber mask, for if anyone did get too close to the happy couple, their eyes were inevitably drawn towards her, leaving him blissfully ignored.

The trip did not take long and all too soon Erik was leading her up the steps to stand at the same door they had visited together two nights before. Yet this time, Erik felt twice as nervous, knowing exactly what waited for him on the other side. While one part of him was eager to see Anna again, the other side was filled with trepidation over a second run in with Christine's father. Squaring his shoulders and making a silent vow that he would hold his temper this time, Erik boldly knocked on the door.

There was the sound of activity inside and the scurrying of feet as they approached the door, before it swung open to reveal the anxious face of Anna.

"I thought you two would never get here!" she said with a nervous laugh, reaching out and pulling them both inside eagerly. They were both in turn given a motherly embrace along with an overjoyed smile of happiness. "We were about to send out a search party to find you."

"I would not advise you doing so, Anna," Erik warned, not at all liking the idea of his nanny falling prey to one of his many traps in the tunnels.

"Oh, but we had an expert guide to make sure we got there safely," she assured him, as she led them into the kitchen and pointed towards Amir, who was standing next to Charles, enjoying a steaming cup of tea. He shot Erik an uncertain glance as he did his best to assess the condition of his friend's mood. He was still clinging to Christine's hand, which was a good sign, but with Erik you just never could tell when your life was in immediate danger.

"Ah, yes, it would seem the helpful Daroga has indeed been moonlighting as a tour guide for the lower chambers of the Opera Garnier," Erik commented, his voice dripping with venom. "Look who I found standing in my parlor, Amir…might _you_ have had something to do with that?"

"I am in no mood to play cat and mouse with you tonight, Erik," Amir huffed. "You know very well that I escorted Christine down to your home, and I would do it again if it meant getting the two of you back on speaking terms. You were both miserable without each other and if anything, you owe me your gratitude, not your disdain."

Erik looked from the somewhat irritated Persian to Christine and gave a warm smile. He found he could not argue one bit with the man's logic and in the spirit of their reconciliation, he would once more forgive his betrayal and let the man live.

"I am unable to fault you in your reasoning on this occasion, Daroga," Erik replied, giving him a nod and hoping that his words were enough to smooth things over. Yet when his eyes fell upon Charles, he knew a lot more would need to be said in order to make peace with him. He was not like Amir who he could threaten, bully or browbeat into doing as he wished. No, Charles Daae was a horse of another color.

"Sir," Erik said in greeting, acknowledging the man's presence and assigning him a title of respect…something he had done very little of in his life.

"Erik," Charles answered, nodding his head slightly in return.

"Well, I can see this will be a scintillating conversation if we women do not interject a bit," Anna broke in exasperatedly, already feeling the tension rising in the room. "How about we retire to the parlor and have a nice chat?"

"I think that is a splendid idea," Christine agreed, pulling Erik along with her as Anna in turn did the same with Charles. Amir followed much like a third wheel, yet unwilling to miss any of this. He had lived a long time on this earth but he had never thought to see the day when Erik Trouville, the assassin of Persia and the terrifying Opera Ghost was forced to kowtow to another man. This could prove to be very entertaining.

Once they were all seated the awkward silence settled in once more, with both Erik and Charles looking anywhere but at each other. Christine had just cleared her throat, attempting to think of anything to say when her father's voice cut her off.

"Erik, may I speak with you outside…in private?" his tone was neither harsh nor kind, leaving everyone wondering just what might come of this.

"Of course," Erik answered, though he sounded anything but comfortable with the man's request.

The remaining three sat there, wide eyed as they watched Charles and Erik stand up and walk towards the back of the flat, exiting the door that led to the small garden area out back. From the stiff way both had walked, one might think the two men were heading to their own execution, and while there was a distinct chance that one of them might do the other harm, no one dared stop them.

Now left alone the silence was even more uncomfortable, with mother and daughter reaching across the settee to take hold of one another's hand, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

"Do you think we should have followed them?" Christine asked at last.

"No…I think it best we let them work things out on their own," Anna said with a shake of her head. "If the fact that you are still wearing Erik's ring is any indication, your father must find a way to come to terms with the idea that you two will soon be wed. Perhaps this is his way of doing so." She then turned her worried eyes towards the back door. "Or at least I hope it is."

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Erik had followed the older man out back, doing everything possible to appear in control and not at all nervous…and failing miserably. If he had been fearful of speaking with the paternal figure of his fiancée before, he was doubly so now. After the terrible fiasco that took place last time, he had every right to be. Still, he refused to let Christine down. She had already done so much for him, sacrificed more than she should to be with him, it was the very least he could do in return.

"Please, have a seat," Charles invited, gesturing to a stone bench positioned in the middle of the small brick patio.

There were several small trees and bushes scattered around as well as one or two stone statues for decoration. Erik walked slowly to where Charles had indicated and sat down rather hesitantly…never taking his amber eyes off the man before him. He felt even more uncomfortable when he noted that Charles intended to stand, causing him to look up at him, a position Erik cared very little for. Yet instead of lording his height over him, like Erik might have done had the situation been reversed, Charles instead took on a stance of humility.

"Erik…I would like to begin by apologizing for my more than rude behavior the other evening," he confessed, both sincerity and remorse echoing in his voice. "I was very upset and thoroughly exhausted after searching in vain for Christine, but still that was no excuse for how horribly I behaved. I do hope you will find it within yourself to forgive an old man his folly."

"No!" Erik almost shouted, springing back to his feet. When Charles' eyes grew wide and he took a step back, Erik quickly elaborated. "I mean of course I will forgive you…but you do not have any reason to be apologizing to me! I am the one who should be down on bended knee begging you to overlook _my_ transgressions. I not only kept your daughter hidden away in my home for two months, but then I attacked you in yours. I also did not follow custom and solicited Christine for her hand in marriage without doing the honorable thing and petitioning you first. Thus it is I who should ask for your pardon."

Charles relaxed a bit and regarded Erik carefully for a moment after his little speech.

"That is rather generous of you to say so. Though I will only agree that since we were both at fault, we shall both shoulder the blame or none shall be placed." He then extended his hand, offering it to Erik as a sign of forgiveness, if not friendship.

Erik eyed the man's hand for a moment before taking hold of it and giving it a firm shake. He had not done so with a man in…well, as long as he could remember. No male in his life had ever merited such consideration…not even the Daroga.

"Would now be a good time to broach the subject of marriage to your daughter, sir?" Erik ventured, once they had ended the shake and dropped their hands.

"I take it that you two are still determined to go through with this union?" Charles now crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to look like a stern and disapproving father, yet Erik pressed on.

"We are," he assured him. "Christine knows all my faults, has both heard and seen my greatest sins, and yet she continues to profess her love for me. I, in turn, make no secret of my affection and devotion to her. So in the spirit of full disclosure, I ask you now, Monsieur Daae, to grant me the privilege of taking your daughter, Christine, as my bride."

"And what if I say no?" Charles asked.

"I sincerely hope you do not," Erik responded, not backing down an inch.

So there they stood, two stubborn men, each waiting for the other to flinch – yet neither one did. Until at last Charles spoke, his tone one of sorrow.

"Parting with Christine is not an easy thing for me, Erik," he confessed. "I have spent the past twenty years watching her grow from a babe in my arms to an amazing young woman… something I am only recently able to admit to out loud. For no matter how old she becomes or how far she travels from home, she will always be _my little girl_. It has been my duty to protect her, to make her smile and give her all that she needs in this world. And now…now she looks to you for those things, and I am just not sure how to deal with that."

"I have no desire to take her from you," Erik assured him, completely understanding the man's reluctance to hand over such a precious jewel. "I would never run away with her or hide her from you and she will never stop being your daughter…even if she becomes my wife. And you must know that I would walk through fire to protect her and never allow anything or anyone to harm her. Of this I swear!"

The truth in Erik's words was not lost on Charles, yet it took a few tense moments for it to sink in. After what felt like an eternity the older man's frown at last gave way to a reluctant grin and he chuckled softly to himself.

"Well, I suppose there is nothing else I can do but give you two my blessing," he said at last, walking over to the other stone bench directly across from Erik and sitting down with a heavy sigh. "Especially if I wish to continue living long enough to give her away at the wedding."

"Sir, you must know I would never do you harm, even_ if_ you were to deny me this boon," Erik interjected, not at all pleased that the man still thought ill of him.

"Oh, I didn't mean _you_, Erik," Charles replied, good-naturedly. "While I would be a fool to not have a healthy respect for your…_past skills_…I was referring to the fact that Christine would skin me alive if I were to withhold my consent!" He leaned forward a bit and spoke in a fearful whisper. "She can be rather frightening when she is angry…she gets that from her mother." He gave Erik a curious look, as if sizing the younger man up. "You say you wish to marry my daughter, but are you sure you know what you are in for, son?"

Erik stood there and stared at the man he once considered his greatest rival for Christine's affection, before breaking into a humorous grin.

"I can honestly say I have no idea whatsoever, sir," he assured him. "Yet I am very anxious to find out."

"It is probably best this way. If I were to tell you half the stories I know you might disappear into the night once more out of pure fear… leaving me to try and explain your absence a second time!" Charles said with a laugh as well. "And perhaps it might be time that you called me Charles, instead of sir. At one time I had thought that you might have been inducted into our family as an adopted son of mine, Anna having had her heart set on the both of us taking you in. But now, I think we are more on an equal footing, not so much father and son as perhaps… friends?"

"I…I would like that very much…Charles," Erik agreed, sitting down on the bench across from him once more, feeling much more comfortable in his presence than before. "Then…you do not hold my past against me? You do not fear for yours or Christine's safety?"

"My daughter explained how things were for you, Erik," the older man's voice heavy with regret. "I do not condone violence, yet even I would be hard pressed not to wish death upon those who treated you so horribly. Anna has sung your praises for over twenty years and now my other ear has been filled with the same words from Christine. Who am I to take the word of strangers over the two women who mean everything to me?" He then looked at Erik and gave a raised eyebrow, yet a smile tempered it slightly. "However, I think it might be time you thought about taking on a more respectable job than that of Opera Ghost. From what Monsieur Dessan tells us, it is quite lucrative, yet not the type of profession I would like for my future son-in-law. Your Persian friend mentioned that you are a fine architect as well as composer. Might you wish to pursue those talents and leave haunting behind?"

Erik could feel his face grow hot under his mask at the man's words. Of course Christine's parents would wish for him to have a normal occupation and while he had not given the matter much thought, there was a part of him that missed the creative process of both. He would have to submit his designs anonymously, of course. Or find someone willing to serve as a front man for him, willing to deal with the clients in person while he remained in the shadows, so to speak. He instantly thought of Victor, yet perhaps Amir could be of some use as well, having seen both the palace he had constructed in Persia as well as the opera house. He might even contact his old colleague, Charles Garnier, and let him know he was looking for clients. Suddenly this idea was taking on merit and he found himself almost excited over the prospect of creating magnificent structures once more.

"I would be open to the idea of leaving the title of Opera Ghost behind," Erik said with a thoughtful nod. "I would do anything to please Christine. Though I assure you, I am not without the means to support your daughter quite lavishly. I have made many good investments and not squandered the fortune I have acquired. I can promise that your daughter will never lack for anything in life."

"Well, that is comforting to know." Charles seemed pleased by this, as any loving father would be. "While I would never encourage Christine to marry for anything less than love, I have to say, it does my heart good to know that she and my grandchildren will be taken care of."

Up until then Erik had been feeling rather good about himself, not only having gained the good will of his future father-in-law but also impressed him with his abilities to provide. Yet at the mention of children, all his hopes fell. He could not let this one slide. He had to inform Charles of his refusal to procreate and give Christine, and in turn he and Anna, the progeny they desired. It would be a bitter pill, but he owed it to the man to tell him the truth. After all, had he not just offered him his hand in friendship?

"Sir…I have a confession to make," Erik began, feeling it necessary to slip back into using this title of respect for such a conversation. "I have spoken of this at great length with your daughter and while I know she is saddened by the idea, I fear this is a caveat that I am unable to give in on. After Christine and I are wed…we will not be starting a family of our own. Your daughter and I will not be having children."

"WHAT?" Charles was on his feet in an instant, towering over the still sitting Erik as he glared at him over this revelation. "Why on earth not? Do you not like children? Is your distaste for them so great that you would deny your wife, as well as Anna and I, the joy they would bring?"

"I do not dislike children," Erik began, though in truth he had no special fondness for little ones either, never having been around them for any length of time. "And even if I did, that alone would never be enough to cause me to deprive my wife of them, even if she wished to have a dozen."

"Then why do you insist on no children, when Christine so obviously wishes to have them?" Charles questioned, still very perplexed. Erik seemed to be talking in circles. Offering to give his daughter everything she desired, save the one thing he knew she always wanted.

"Is it not obvious?" Erik asked, releasing a disheartened sigh as he rose to his feet. "I was born with a birth defect, one that caused my own mother to abhor the very sight of me. I would never dream of passing on such a disfigurement to an innocent child. And while I am certain that Christine, and Anna, would never treat a child in such a manner as I was, it would kill me to know that I was the cause of any babe having to grow up looking like me. I will not do it, sir. I cannot!" Erik then turned to look at Charles, a plea for understanding in his eyes as he added, "We have spoken about adopting a foundling child perhaps…yet even that has not been decided upon."

Once again the two men sized each other up, one looking resolute in his reluctant decision while the other appeared to be more stunned than anything else.

"You…you fear you might pass on your…" Charles, unable to think of the right word, simply gestured towards Erik's mask.

"It is more than a fear…it is my greatest terror," Erik lamented. "I will not do this to a child…or to Christine."

"Erik," the older man began, sounding almost sympathetic now, as he stepped forward and placed his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I understand your concerns…but there is something you do not know. Something that I think will change your outlook on this subject. Yet it is not _my_ story to tell…it is Anna's." He then began to gently steer Erik back towards the door, almost eager to return to the parlor where they had left the ladies…and Amir.

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Amir was almost glad to see Erik and Charles returning, since for the past twenty minutes he had been grilled mercilessly by Christine and Anna about his upcoming nuptials with Monique. They had asked him all kinds of difficult and embarrassing questions, most of which he had no idea how to answer. How would he know what his new bride wished to receive as gifts or where they would travel on their honeymoon? He had only proposed to the girl a day ago…wasn't his part over?

Yet by the confused look on Erik's face, not to mention the scowl on Charles', all of Amir's woes were quickly forgotten. Especially when Christine's father marched right up to Anna and declared:

"Please tell this foolish young man exactly why he should not fear to give me a grandchild!"

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**CHARLES! Why must you continue to put your foot in your mouth? ha ha.**

**Oh look, Erik and his daddy-in-law made nice and were even on a first name basis...until the whole baby thing came up. BUT, maybe it is good that it did. NOW we might get someplace!**

**Good thing Erik realized that he should be THANKING Amir for his interference and not scolding him for it. **


	45. Chapter 45

**OH, we are soooo close! Only 41 more reviews to go!**

**This might even be the last chapter I send up alone before my promised mass posting!**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**MlleNikki:** They WOULD have beautiful babies! Henri was a hunk! 10? Christine only asked for four! Yes he was supposed to...and still might...wait for it. Anna was like a mom to him, so why couldn't he be a dad to some other lonely kid? It will be a happy/sad conversation, true. But it needs to be told...for the sake of the babies! Raoul is on his way...he is just slow. ha ha. Must be stopping to ogle all the pretty girls along the way. He was rather adorable and innocuous in MBTM, wasn't he?

**TheRebbs98**: Erik will ALWAYS need reassuring of love...it is just his nature. Oh, I think Christine was mortified by what Erik told her about Drunk Christine. ha ha. And YOU know the loophole...and I know the loophole...and Anna knows the loophole...but Erik does not. YET. No, Christine does not know about what Suzette did either. Amir/Erik banter is always fun. Raoul? You are looking for Raoul? He is on his way!

**Sryianlight:** Things do appear on the right track...for once! I am sure whatever Christine does to Erik, he will enjoy thoroughly. ha ha. No...I think even if he said NO...their bodies will say YES. ha ha. Charles' only purpose in life is to embarrass and aggravate Erik it would seem! Amir will learn soon how much he has yet to do in this wedding! then up all night with the baby, diapers, feedings, etc. Erik, help with Amir's wedding? Yah...I don't see it. More mischief to come...I promise!

**Guestxx:** Well thank you for saying so! And yes, I had never seen a blind Christine either, so I thought...why not?!

**Guest22:** Thank you, with as many betas and pre-readers as I employ, one would HOPE there are not too many mistakes. ha ha. I appreciate you saying so.

**Xtinax89:** Oh please do log in, then I can thank you in person. Ha ha, I did not get the name from Frozen, even though I do like the movie. I originally chose Anna since is was so close to the word Nanna and I had dirt planned on Erik calling her that but it didn't work out and so Anna took its place. But if you want to picture her like that, go right ahead. ha ha.

**PhanGuest:** Love how you call him Chuck. He might be abrupt, but he will get results! Yes, how will Erik take that little tid-bit about his past?

**Annon:** PLOT HOLES? Oh dear, someone get me the road patch kit...we need some asphalt here...STAT! Hope they were not too big and didn't damage your reading car. ha ha. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

**Grandma Paula:** I gave out a few snippet cards to readers who guessed correctly on my contest a while back. They are kind of useless now though with the mass posting so close. You are not missing out. It is a race to the alter now! Who will win? Erik is rather competitive...yet Christine might have her own ideas.

**Patato:** Nothing cuter than a little Erik. I found a pix of him on Deviantart of him sitting on the floor with a cookie jar and chocolate all over his face... he is just ADORABLE! Anna can't help but love him!

**Guest:** Hmmm, now correct me if I am wrong...you want Suzette to die? Am I right? I was a bit unsure by your reviews... (ha ha) And we ALL love little Erik.

**Phan:** Staying up late reading is unhealthy...just ask Erik...but I thank you none the less for doing so. Glad you enjoyed it!

**LackadaisicalOne:** Reunions all around...everyone is now with whom they should be and in love! I hope he can handle the news too...it is rather close to the end for me to have to deal with his neurosis AGAIN! And dozens? Um...Christine only wanted FOUR. Give them a break will ya? ha ha. Poor Amir...oh well, he deserves it for thinking his JOB was done!

**Mystery:** OH I LOVED your little version of 'a polite conversation' with all them! The visual of Erik holding the baby and having others climb on him was just too cute. He would be a rather hands on dad I think. Helping out, playing, laughing, loving...hey, don't you go make ME cry now! You seem to have a great way with words...YOU should be writing!

**PrivaeUser:** I might have skimmed over what his face looked like, but I was kind of going on the assumption that when Anna SAW it back in the earlier chapters that was enough for you all to remember what it looked like. I was just trying to to be toooo repetitive. Hope you are enjoying it otherwise.

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**Chapter 45**

**The Past Revealed**

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"Father!" Christine cried out, her eyes wide with shock and mortification as she quickly stood up. "I...I can't believe you would say such a thing! What Erik and I do…_or don't do_…once we are married is our business and no one else's!"

Her face had turned a lovely shade of pink at her father's suggestive comment, and even as stunned as he was, Erik was forced to take a moment to admire his lady love.

Suddenly realizing exactly how his statement must have sounded, Charles too became embarrassed and held up his hands in protest.

"No, no, no! That is _not_ what I meant at all! God, no!" he blustered, staring at all the shock filled faces around him. "Yet, Erik tells me that you two will not be having children, due to his fear of passing on his…well, his unfortunate circumstances."

"Oh…I…I see," Christine stammered, calming down a bit as she retook her seat on the settee. Though from the crimson in her cheeks it was obvious she was still a bit affronted by her father's awkward statement. "But that is still _our _concern! Erik and I will be the ones to decide such things…no one else." She then gave Erik a sympathetic look, conveying to him her apologies for her father's less than tactful words.

"However, if I have information on the subject that you two apparently do not, I feel it _is_ my concern, Christine!" Charles said in his defense. Turning to his wife he urged her once more to speak. "Tell him, Anna. Tell Erik what you told me about his mother and what she did. He is not a child whom you must protect any longer. He is a grown man and he deserves to know the truth."

At this Erik's attention was stolen from his lovely fiancée and he instead turned to look at his former nanny. It was then that he noticed that she had tears in her eyes and was wringing the napkin in her hand as if she was fretting over something.

"Anna?" Erik questioned, stepping closer to where she sat.

"Oh, Erik…I never wanted you to know," she moaned, reaching out and taking his hand as she guided him to sit next to her on the settee, sandwiched between her and Christine. "It was just so horrible, and all I wanted to do was protect you from the truth. I reasoned that it would never change things even if you knew…but now I see that I was wrong. Not knowing would only further interfere with your future and happiness. But please understand, I never told you this because I loved you far too much. Now I realize that I must speak of it _because_ of that same love."

Erik could feel the fear sinking into his heart as he processed his nanny's words. Whatever this news was, he could see Anna's reluctance to divulge it and that was what worried him. Suddenly he was aware of Christine as she scooted closer to him; reaching out and taking his free hand as she gave it a reassuring squeeze. He turned his head and stared down into her beautiful blue eyes and couldn't help but be comforted.

"I am right here, Erik," she assured him. "Whatever it is, we will face it together."

"I know, my love," he nodded, lifting her hand to his lips as he kissed it reverently.

"Perhaps it would be best if I left," Amir spoke up, feeling rather out of place in this intimate conversation. He had just leaned forward in his chair to put his tea cup down when Erik stopped him.

"No! Stay where you are," Erik ordered, his tone revealing that even with Christine's assurance, he was still on edge and a bit panicked. "You are one of the very few who know of all my past sins, Daroga, I would hate for you to miss out on some of my earliest ones." He then looked directly at him, his eyes almost pleading for him to remain…for moral support. "I want you to stay."

Amir was flabbergasted, and yet did as he was bid, sitting back and giving him a silent nod of understanding.

"Tell me the truth, Anna," Erik now begged. "Whatever it is, I need to know." He then gave one more quick glance at Christine. "_We_ need to know."

"Yes, I can see that you do," Anna agreed, touched by the love she saw before her. She was quiet for a moment, shutting her eyes as she sought the right words before opening a wound that might never heal. "It was purely by accident that I learned this, for it came to me through the act of spying on Suzette and your grandfather when he came to visit."

"So that man was _her _father, just as I came to suspect," Erik nodded, feeling as if one piece of the puzzle had been placed in the right slot.

"Yes, though I never did hear his name spoken aloud, he was your maternal grandfather. However, for the way he treated you, he never deserved such a coveted title." Again she stopped and gave Erik a sympathetic look, once more feeling the pain he had been through as a young boy, put on display every six months with no explanation as to why. "You see, the reason he came to see her…and you…was to prove to himself that you were still alive. That his vile and selfish daughter had not allowed you to perish from neglect or by design, though not for the reasons you might think. It was not out of family concern…but instead to enforce his idea of a punishment upon her."

"Punishment?" Erik questioned, and as he watched Anna's eyes lower in shame he suddenly realized her meaning. "Her…her punishment was that she was forced to…_keep me?"_ His voice was low; a cross between a gasp and a growl and even Christine could feel the hatred for this woman in his words. "Then…I hope I made her life the living hell she deserved! What else would be fitting for the woman who dared to birth a demon such as me?"

"No, Erik!" Anna cried out, looking up in shock at his declaration. "Though I do not disagree that she deserved all the suffering she brought upon herself, it was not for the reasons you think. Her father did not deem her worthy of penance over merely _giving_ birth to a deformed son…he was punishing her for being the one who deliberately caused it!"

"She…_what?"_ Now Erik was completely stunned, having no idea what Anna truly meant.

"After your father died and before you were born…Suzette…" Anna took a deep breath and pushed forward, letting the hateful words tumble forth all at once for fear they would never be spoken, "…she drank a potion she had acquired from some gypsy in hopes of ending her pregnancy. You were never meant to be this way, Erik…she _caused_ it. You do not carry any flaw within you that might be passed on to future generations…Suzette alone is to blame for…for making you hide your appearance."

Erik was so shocked by Anna's disclosure that he barely heard Christine's gasp of horror at the cruelty of his mother. And yet, the more he thought about it, he knew he should not be the least bit surprised by the news. He had never believed Suzette could have possibly loved him, not even had he been born perfect, for her hatred of his father had been far too evident. Her condemning words about how he was just like _him_ came back to haunt him once more. No, from all he remembered about that woman, it was more than easy to believe that Anna was telling the truth. His own mother had attempted to murder him within the womb, to do away with him before he even drew breath. And Erik had to admit that it was a bit ironic that he had often wished the same thing…that he _had_ died at birth, thus saving him from all the pain and grief he had endured since.

Thinking back on all the years he had spent imprisoned in that lonely attic, he wondered if his mother had ever once been happy or found anything close to contentment. Had her misery been all her own making or had life simply beat her down, just as it had so often tried to do with him? Yet he had endured…_he_ had survived…refusing to allow the villains of this world to distort his mind and heart, just like his own mother had apparently distorted his appearance. Either way, Suzette had lived her life as she chose, ignoring the gifts and advantages she had been so easily handed and instead electing to follow the path of bitterness and hate. She had never been worthy of his time or energy, and from this day forth, he would think of her no more. Instead he turned to look upon the face of the woman who had so lovingly treated him like a true mother should, as well as tenderly squeezed the hand of the woman who now professed to love him…and Erik was suddenly glad for the life he had lived! Granted it had not been a stellar existence, nothing he would ever wish on another human being - not even the Daroga - but if it had brought him to this moment…_it had all been worth it!_

"Erik…are you all right?" Anna's voice cut through the haze of his mind and allowed him to focus on her once more.

"I…I am," he nodded, realizing that amazingly enough it was true. "I am not pleased by this revelation…to know that my life could have taken a different path had _she_ not been so cruel and selfish. Yet, to possess the truth…the realization that I do not carry some deficiency within me that might be passed on…that is a great gift indeed." He then looked down at his darling little fiancée beside him, her eyes filled with tears over the painful story her mother had related. Lifting his hand, he wiped them away with his thumb as he caressed her cheek with his palm. "I was terrified that any child we might create would inherit my curse. That even with your kind and gentle heart, it would slowly destroy our love if this face was given to our baby." When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand to silence her. "I never doubted you, Christine … _I doubted myself. _Knowing that I could never live with the guilt such a tragedy would bring. For that reason alone I was determined to deny you the chance to have a child, even though I knew you longed for them with all your heart. I prayed that my love and devotion would be enough, that I could somehow compensate you for the loss…but no longer." It was only when he felt Christine raise her own hand to wipe away the tears that slipped beneath his mask that Erik realized he too was crying. "I…I still cannot fathom your claim that you love me, Christine, and can believe even less that you desire to…to start a family with me. But if that still be your wish…there is no longer anything in this world I would deny you, my angel. You have but to ask and it will be granted."

"You, Erik," she whispered, leaning in to encircle him with her arms as she pressed her damp cheek to his chest. "You are all I ever want in this world."

Erik choked out a sob of relief as he buried his masked face into the crook of her neck, an unexpected wave of peace and serenity washing over him. _Christine was still his._ He was not cursed to live his life alone and no longer feared that he would pass on his sins like he always believed. And best of all…he was at last able to accept that he was loved by the women he cherished above all others. His life had come full circle and he was finally…_content_.

Erik had no idea how long they stayed in that position, holding one another as if there were no one else in the world. Yet, when he heard someone sniffle loudly, he remembered they did indeed have an audience. Several people in fact. Pulling back he caught the eye of Amir, who was staring at him with unshed tears and appeared to be on the verge of a complete breakdown. Over the years Erik had witnessed a gambit of emotions from the Daroga: joy, compassion, jealousy, fear and anger…the last two often caused by Erik himself. Yet never had he seen the Persian so genuinely moved as he appeared to be right now. It was rather disconcerting! Erik straightened up, loudly clearing his throat in an attempt to regain his composure and quickly looked away. He refused to meet Amir's eyes any longer, for fear he would be required to express some latent feelings of friendship for the annoying man. However, when his gaze came to rest on Charles and then Anna, he knew he was done for. For both were a sobbing mess, though Christine's father was valiantly trying to hide it…but failing miserably.

"What a fine bunch we are," Charles said at last, sheepishly eyeing those around him. "Normally I would say this is cause for celebration, and yet instead of glasses of champagne, perhaps I should fetch us all handkerchiefs."

His jest did the trick and soon everyone was laughing as they wiped their eyes and smiled.

"Thank you, Anna," Erik told her when he could once more speak around the lump that had settled in his throat. "It would appear I owe you even more of my gratitude, for all you have done for me in the past…and now in the present."

"Erik…there is more," Anna spoke up, yet this time her tone was one of excitement.

"More?" he questioned, not sure if his frayed nerves could handle further news.

"Yes, yet this is something I have been eager to tell you about and something you should have known since the day you came of age." Her face was all smiles now as she related her next tale. "You see, unlike your mother, your father, Henri Trouville, loved you very much and before he died he set up a trust fund of sorts for you. One that by now should easily make you a very wealthy man. That was one of the things that caused Suzette to despise you so much, the fact that even though he had never met you, her own husband loved you more than her. You were his pride and joy even before you came into this world, Erik, and he made sure that his love was demonstrated even beyond the grave."

"He…he did?" Erik was stunned. He had always idolized his paternal figure, wanting to imagine that his father might have cared for him, despite his deformity. Yet to hear that his childhood fantasies were somehow true…it was almost too much.

"I spoke with your father's lawyer, a Monsieur Collier, and he confirmed that Henri had named you his sole heir before he died," Anna continued. "Collier and your father were very good friends and he swore to look after your inheritance until you came of age and were able to claim its full worth. Over the years I have kept in touch with him, praying that you might somehow learn of the will and seek him out. It was not too long ago that I received a letter from him informing me that while your inheritance continues to increase, there had still been no word as to your whereabouts. Won't Monsieur Collier be excited to learn that you have been found at last!"

"I…I do not know what to say," Erik stammered, more excited about speaking with a man who knew tales of his father than he was about the promise of a large inheritance.

"I know what you can say," Charles broke in. "Say that everything is settled and that there is a chance I get to be a grandfather after all!"

"Father!" Christine once more scolded him, though this time with less severity. "Erik and I are not even married yet." She then stole a quick glance at her intended, her cheeks flaming red at the heated look and the wolfish grin she found staring back at her.

"Then perhaps we should amend that oversight," Erik offered, overwhelming feelings of love for Christine driving his suggestion. "I see nothing wrong with being wed immediately… tonight if possible!"

"What?" Charles and Anna stated in unison, both appearing shocked by the notion.

"I am all for a short engagement," Anna informed Erik, making certain with her expression that he knew she wholeheartedly approved of the match. "But a girl only gets married once," she stopped there and looked at Charles a bit sheepishly, "…or in my case, twice if she is extremely lucky. So we insist on you two doing this right. There is a dress to shop for, a cake to order and someone has to be found to perform the ceremony. All of this takes time."

"How much time?" Erik questioned, a small part of him still afraid that if they waited too long Christine might change her mind.

"A few weeks?" Anna suggested, looking to Christine for confirmation. "A month at the most?"

"A month!" Erik was having none of that. "If money is the impetus driving this delay, then I assure you, I will see that no expense is spared. Apparently I am rather wealthy…more so than I originally thought, thus I say this wedding will take place on the earliest possible day!"

"Erik, the festival is only two weeks away…should we not be preparing for that as well?" Christine reminded him. "And now that my sight has returned and I can once again dream of performing on stage, I am even more anxious to do my best."

"You will dazzle the judges and easily triumph," Erik assured her, leaning down to place an encouraging kiss upon her forehead. "I will not fail you as your teacher, my dearest. You will be more than ready for the performance when the time comes. That certainly does not mean we cannot plan a wedding at the same time."

"And with us helping, you will not be required to divide your time between Christine's lessons and the menial preparations," Charles informed him, willing to take on an active role in the organization of his daughter's nuptials.

"I will help as well," Amir announced, getting into the spirit of things. "However, perhaps I should be looking to my own ceremony, seeing as how my bride thinks it is imperative that we finalize our union before she will no longer fit into a traditional gown."

"Then it would seem we have_ two _weddings to help out with," Anna laughed, only too happy to assist the man who had done so much for her Erik in the past. "Though I am sure your little ballerina has a few ideas of her own concerning the big event."

"Brides always do," Charles commented with a roll of his eyes, receiving a playful glare from Anna over his jab.

"And do you, Christine?" Erik asked, looking down at his bride-to-be. "What do you picture when you imagine your wedding?"

Christine became thoughtful, looking up and to the right as she contemplated the images that sprang to her mind.

"I am seeing a night wedding," she began, a smile coming to her lips. "Me in a flowing white dress, you in black tails and a top hat and my father walking me down the aisle. There will be music of course, though I honestly have no idea who would provide it, with my two favorite musicians already occupied," she said with a laugh. "And of course I expect to see Monsieur Amir standing up for you as your best man, just like we talked about."

"Erik?" the Daroga gasped, shocked by such a suggestion. "I…I can't believe that you considered asking _me_ to fill such an honored position!"

"I never…" Erik began, feeling his long standing irritation for the man resurface at Christine's ridiculous statement. How many times would he be forced to side step this confounded issue? And yet, as he turned and saw how deeply touched the Persian seemed by the idea, he felt himself give in at last. Christine was right…if it was not Amir standing up for him… who else would it be? After all, the man had stuck with him through thick and thin, saved his life and then continued to torment it with his annoying presence. If that did not describe a true friend…Erik had no idea what did. "Yes…fine!" he said with an exasperated sigh. "I would indeed be…_honored_ if you would be at my side when I take my vows." The words had been a bit difficult to utter, but once they were out of his mouth, Erik felt relieved.

"And I would be equally honored to accept!" Amir affirmed, his waistcoat buttons practically popping off with pride. Yet suddenly his face became troubled and he seemed to fidget a bit, as if not wishing to broach a subject that was unpleasant. "Erik…I hate to be the one to bring this up, but as your best man I feel it is my duty. Have you given any thought to the legal requirements surrounding a wedding? You will need to file papers, give proof of citizenship…a birth certificate?"

The stunned look that appeared in Erik's eyes made it quite obvious that such things had indeed not occurred to him. He looked down at Christine, panic rising in his chest at the thought that perhaps he would not be able to secure his little angel as his wife after all.

"Erik…we will find a way," she quickly assured him, taking note of his obvious alarm.

"Monsieur Collier!" Anna said in a loud voice, causing everyone to turn to her. "We will contact your father's lawyer, Monsieur Collier, and ask for his help on the matter. I am certain he would be the most knowledgeable about how to locate any documentation to prove your birth and lineage. After all, he has been trying to locate you for the past twenty years, what better place to start than there?"

"Yes, Erik," Christine smiled, doing her best to soothe his worry. "Do not despair or give up hope. We shall contact this man first thing in the morning and even travel to see him if we must. But you and I shall be married, one way or the other…I swear it."

"Then it _is_ settled!" Charles stated with a clap of his hands, as if to punctuate the finality of it all. "I say we plan the ceremony for the night after the festival. That way we will have two things to celebrate…a wedding and Christine's triumphant success for taking first place."

"Exactly!" Erik agreed, pushing his trepidation aside for the time being. He greatly admired the man's steadfast confidence in his daughter and her abilities. Perhaps his future father-in-law was not as bad as he had originally believed. "Christine will soon be the new Diva of the Opera Garnier, with all of Paris at her feet."

"As lovely as that sounds," she smiled, blushing a bit at his words of praise, "the only title I truly want is that of Madame Trouville…the devoted wife of Erik Trouville."

"Well, my angel," Erik told her with a look of pure adoration, "I swear that I will move heaven and earth to see that happen."

* * *

**Well...how about THAT! **

**The date is set...them having babies is back on the table...Amir will be the best man...Erik knows about his inheritance and all seems right with the world!**

**What could possibly go wrong? Raoul? ha ha. (Oh I am so wicked)**


	46. Chapter 46

**Well you all did it! Seeing is Believing just topped Mystery Behind the Mask as #1 most reviewed POTO story! THANK YOU ALL.**

**As promised I will now do a mass posting. I plan on letting a few minutes go between each one just so the FF site will not mix things up again and send the alerts out of order. So if the next one does not bing-bong in right away...wait a few minutes. **

**The only chapter I will hold back is the Epilogue. I would like to use that one to add in the "guest reviews" that will come in over the the next day or so. Then I will post it.**

**Thanks once more for all your kind and complimentary support!**

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**Chapter 46**

**Sing For Me**

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The next two weeks were busy indeed. Not only was there a wedding to plan and a festival for which to prepare, but the search was on to find the proper paperwork that would allow Erik and Christine's dream to come true. Thankfully, they only had to wait a few short days before the answer they sought returned from Monsieur Collier. He was indeed pleased to hear that Erik had been located and was now reunited with the woman who had been searching for him for so long. He also informed them of Suzette's passing, some time ago, causing the house and all its belongings to revert back to Henri Trouville's estate and in turn to the care of Collier's firm. Among the items recovered within the house was legal proof that Henri indeed had been given an heir, his birth having been registered by the old priest Suzette had brought in to teach Erik as a child. Collier was only too happy to forward the documents to them, once he heard the reason for their immediate need. He also sent them all his best wishes and made Erik promise to come see him as soon as possible…after the wedding and subsequent honeymoon of course.

So it was that everything was falling into place and with so much to do, time almost flew by. Yet even amid all the bustle, it seemed that everyone wanted to spend time with Erik and Christine - when all they truly desired was to be alone.

"You two can spend all the time you wish together when you are properly wed," Anna would tell them whenever they wished to scurry off together. "I have spent the past two months missing my baby girl and the past _twenty years_ without you, Erik. I would think the least you can do is afford this poor old woman a few hours of your time."

"You are far from old, Anna," Erik insisted, more than happy to be in her company once again. "You are in the prime of your life and just as beautiful as ever."

"Well, I am still older than you, young man, and I expect my words to be given consideration," she continued, doing her best to appear stern. "And no amount of flattery can win my good graces."

"Yes, Mother," Christine laughed, embracing her tightly as she kissed her cheek.

"That is better," Anna smiled, easily placated. "Now, if you two are done with your music lessons, why don't you assist me with dinner? I seem to recall you being a big help in the kitchen, Erik."

"And I recall you being a bit of a disaster," he teased, having easily fallen back into their old comfortable relationship. "Though from the girth of your husband I must assume that it has improved over the years."

"Oh, you wicked boy!" Anna laughed, reaching out to swat him with the tea towel she was holding. "I will have you on clean up duty for a week for your cheekiness!"

Easily side stepping her assault, Erik took hold of Christine's hand and the three of them headed to the kitchen amid peals of laughter.

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So it went, every day they spent preparing Christine's voice and each night the little family gathered in their parlor to laugh and reminisce. Yet far too soon the hours would slip away and Erik would force himself to kiss his angel goodnight and head home. His lair was quickly becoming his least favorite place to be these days, for though it had not changed…_Erik had. _No longer did he wish to remain holed up, hiding from the world and all its inhabitants. Now he longed for companionship and the loving family he had found. Each night he would fall asleep with visions of his blushing bride, extending her hand as she was escorted down the aisle towards him, ready to speak her vows of love. And each morning he would wake from these dreams with a renewed sense of wonder and hope. Everything was suddenly new and exciting for Erik.

At the beginning of the second week, Erik reluctantly gave up his days with Christine as she was now required to journey to the Opera Garnier each morning to attend rehearsals. This gave Erik a perfect opportunity to investigate the competition…however, once he had seen those Christine was to be pitted against vocally, he saw no competition at all. After the first day he was certain that she would indeed take first place, hands down. Still, he kept his eyes and ears open, making sure there was no collusion or conspiracies afoot that might rob Christine of her well-deserved prize. He had promised to stay out of things, to not interfere in any way, but there was no harm in observing…was there? And even if he had told Charles that his days as the Opera Ghost would soon come to an end, Erik found it vital to keep up his Phantom persona at least until after the festival. With the Ghost on duty, no one would dare try and rig the contest!

It had been decided by the judges that after all the contestants had their chance to perform, they would take a short break to deliberate their recommendations and allow the Corps de ballet to perform for the audience during that time. Then once they had come to a decision and the winner was announced, the new Diva would then offer up one final piece to showcase her talent. At first Erik was a bit perturbed, not having been consulted on this and far too busy to have been made aware of the new addition to the program. They had been working so hard on her main piece of music, that he had not given any consideration to a second one.

"Perhaps you should sing the aria from Idomeneo once more," Erik suggested. "They appeared to enjoy it very much during your audition."

"Yes…that is a possibility," Christine began, seemingly in deep thought. "Or…I could…" she stopped there, as if an idea had just struck her. "Erik…do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you," he replied, a bit offended that she need ask such a question.

"Then if I tell you I know what song I wish to perform, should I win, would you allow it?" she continued hopefully.

"I would indeed," Erik nodded.

"Even if I did not tell you what it was and made you wait to find out?" Of this part she seemed a bit hesitant.

"What?" Erik barked, not sure he liked that idea at all. "Why would you wish to keep this from me?"

"It will be a surprise!" Christine explained with a look of glee. "Please, do not be angry and allow me to have one little secret…for just a bit?"

Erik was still not pleased with the idea of Christine keeping anything from him, but one look in her persuasive blue eyes and he knew he would agree to anything. Was this how it was to be for the remainder of his life, wrapped around his angel's little finger? Erik certainly hoped so!

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Thus he was relegated to his own home for even more hours of the day during the final week, giving his secretive little fiancée time to implement her plan and prepare the mystery song. Though he did it begrudgingly, he made the most of his time by working on his new and improved rubber mask, continuing to incorporate the idea that the Daroga had shockingly inspired. By lining the inside with a thin, but soft, fabric he was now able to wear the thing far longer than before without any irritation. It was still stuffy and confining, and not something he would wear continuously, but for outings and special occasions…it would be perfect.

It was not long after the idea for the ballet had been announced that Amir came visiting, all riled up and in a terrible temper.

"Those idiots fired her!" he hollered, as Erik opened the door and invited him in. "Monique informed them of her condition, as well as her hopes of taking a sabbatical until after the baby is born, and those morons actually had the gall to dismiss my little flower from the festival!"

"They what?" Erik was shocked. He really needed to pay more attention to the goings on up there.

"They insisted that an unwed dancer claiming to be with child did not present the right image for the institute and with them looking for a new patron, it would be best that my Monique politely bowed out of the show," Amir explained as he poured himself a glass of brandy and drank it down in one gulp.

"And what did Sorelli have to say about that?" Erik wondered, not quite sure of the woman's temperament these days.

"I was told that she gave them a few choice words over their suggestion and then ran out in tears!" he informed his masked friend. "She is currently at my home, still sobbing her eyes out. This was to be her final performance, her coup de grâce, and now she is devastated."

"Well, not for long!" Erik huffed, grabbing his hat and cape as he headed for the door. "Monique Sorelli is about to learn just what can be accomplished by a highly perturbed Opera Ghost and strongly worded letter to the managers!"

Amir never got a chance to speak before the door slammed behind him and he was left standing there with his mouth hanging open.

"Erik…" he called hesitantly. "Erik!" This time his words were a bit louder but it was no use, the man was gone. "You know I haven't the foggiest idea how to open your door!" When once again no answer came, he sat down and poured himself a second glass full of liquid, deciding that he might as well make the best of his confinement.

.

.

By that very evening, Sorelli was firmly restored to her former position as Prima Ballerina and once again given the lead during the festival. The two managers even made a special trip to Amir's home in order to beg the dancer's forgiveness, promising her that her position would be waiting for her when she chose to return…provided that she was properly married by then. As a result, she and Amir hurried their wedding plans along in order to squelch any further rumors of her unwed state. Though he was Persian by birth, Amir held no ties to his former country or religion and was not opposed to a Christian ceremony. So it was that the two decided to be married in the small chapel in the lower chambers of the opera house. This suited Erik and Christine just fine, since this way they could be in attendance without being seen, since Amir pointed out that it was still a bit too soon for him to be introducing Monique to the Opera Ghost as his closest friend – a title that still made Erik twitch just a bit. So as Amir Dessan took the hand of the dark and beautiful Monique Sorelli in holy matrimony, Erik and Christine watched from their ghostly hiding place behind the wall. When Amir was asked if he willingly took this woman to be his wedded wife, Erik leaned down, his lips brushing near Christine's ear.

"I too will take thee to be my companion in all things, to have and to hold and never let go, allowing nothing short of death to separate us," he whispered, his warm breath causing her to shiver clear down to her toes. "And even then, my love for you will live on."

Christine did not know what to say, yet her tear filled eyes spoke volumes. And when the preacher asked the same question of Monique, Christine in turn spoke her own reply to Erik.

"I also offer you my hand, my heart and my fidelity, keeping only unto you from now until eternity. You are my everything, Erik…and you always will be."

And so it was that when the actual bride and groom were told they could seal their union with a kiss, Erik and Christine missed the entire thing, due to the fact that they were already locked in a heated kiss of their own.

.

.

The festival was quickly approaching and while Erik would have liked nothing more than to observe the performance from Box Five, it was decided that if they wished to avoid speculation, he would instead legitimately reserve Box Three for their viewing pleasure. This way he could sit with Anna, Charles and Amir during the performance and no one would suspect that the Opera Ghost was in attendance.

"What about Victor?" Christine asked, looking almost hurt that no one had thought to include Erik's helpful assistant. "After all, his lady will be featured in the ballet as well, and I am sure he would enjoy a prime spot to view her performance." And it was true, for Monique had informed Amir that little Meg Giry would be taking on one of the more prominent roles in the dance at the festival, as well as the title of Prima Ballerina during her absence. Thus, Christine felt that Victor should be incorporated into their little group and offered a seat in the luxurious box along with them. Erik made a big display of showing his irritation for the idea, but in the end he agreed to extend the man an invitation.

.

.

And so the highly anticipated day finally arrived, and thankfully Erik's improvements to his rubber mask were finished as well. The plans for their wedding were right on schedule and all they needed to do was focus on the festival and Christine's undoubtable victory. True to her word, Christine kept her secret and Erik found himself arriving at the front of the Opera Garnier still not knowing what his fiancée planned to sing for her encore performance. Yet as he stepped out of the carriage, amid the crowd decked in all their finery, everything but his angel was forgotten. This was her night; her moment to shine and Erik would happily bask in the shadow of her glory, being more than content to do so. Turning back around he extended his hand to offer her assistance in exiting, followed by Anna and then Charles. Amir had said he would be there shortly, as he had agreed to take a second carriage and pick up Victor Batton on his way. Everyone was in a twitter as they mounted the marble steps that led to Paris' throne of music. Once more Anna and Christine stopped to admire Erik's handiwork, always amazed at his artistry and genius.

Yet all too soon Christine was swept away backstage by the managers and the music director, the three eager men never once giving a second glance to the tall gentleman dressed in black beside her – thanks to a certain mask he now wore. Erik was tempted to follow them in secret, utilizing the hidden passages so that he need never lose sight of his perfect little angel, but the hand that wound its way around his arm stopped him.

"She will be just fine," Anna assured him, recognizing his almost panicked state at having been so rudely divested of his true love. "She knows you are here for her and she will sing just as you have taught her…perfectly."

"You were the one who instructed her first," he reminded, having only polished up the glittering gem Anna had originally formed. "Tonight she will make us all proud."

"That she will, my boy!" Charles agreed, slapping him on the back as he looked around the massive building. "Now where are they hiding this box we reserved? I need to find a spot to get comfortable; this confounded suit is making me itch." He then looked Erik up and down in disbelief. "How can you wear this kind of monkey suit every day? It is downright confining!"

"After spending a couple of years in filthy rags and locked in a cage, one comes to appreciate fine clothing," Erik answered back. And even though his reasoning was a bit depressing, his tone demanded that no pity be given. That was his past, something that he no longer allowed to bother him, for now he was facing a marvelous future and nothing could make him despondent. Still, the look of horror that came over Anna's face told him that she was not yet ready to disregard such statements, and he quickly apologized. "Forgive me, Anna," he requested, patting her hand that rested on his arm. "I often forget how tender your heart is. I will not speak in such a flippant manner again."

"Thank you, Erik," she smiled, though she held on to him a bit tighter, as if the contact alone might erase the suffering he had experienced. "I do have to say I am very impressed with the quality of your mask. Charles did not exaggerate when he told me he noticed no abnormalities when he first met you, for it makes you look very…" she stopped there, as if searching for the correct word.

"Human?" Erik offered, but instantly regretted his off handed remark once more when her eyes narrowed in irritation.

"No, Erik," she gently scolded. "It makes you look…distinguished. You must learn to take a compliment, for with both Christine and myself around, you will be hearing many more, I assure you."

"Yes, Anna," he nodded in a penitent manner. "Once again, please forgive me." His eyes then fell upon Charles who had been ignoring most of the conversation as he continued to fidget and fuss with the cravat he was wearing, looking more and more irritated by the moment. "Yet before your husband decides to shed all his clothing in favor of comfort, I suggest we head up to Box Three. If you will follow me, we can recline privately until the festival begins."

.

.

The private box was much to Charles' liking and even Anna said she felt like a queen, perched in a tower, surveying her kingdom. Recalling her former title as Countess, Erik was certain that this was not her first visit to a private opera box, but for the sake of her current husband, she was obviously not about to mention any previous experiences. When Amir and Victor arrived introductions were made, leaving the young assistant feeling rather bashful and awkward. But in no time at all, Anna's kind and soothing manner had the boy talking a mile a minute. He was quite keen on extolling the virtues of his own little ballerina, anxious to see her perform at last. For up till now, he had only dared slip in during a rehearsal or two, never having had the pull to secure a ticket for an actual performance and he obviously felt uncomfortable allowing Meg to offer him a seat on the house.

It was evident that Monsieur Batton felt even less at ease in a suit than Charles, and the way he kept tugging on his own collar had Erik chuckling behind his gloved hand. Yet all thoughts of ballerinas and white starched shirts left his mind the moment the lights went down and the orchestra began to warm up. This was it…the moment he had been waiting for. Christine was going to sing!

Or at least he thought she would sing. But no, instead he, and the rest of the inhabitants of Box Three, had to wait for over an hour before it would finally be Christine's turn on stage. A few of the hopeful singers were passable, more suited for the chorus than center stage, while a large number required Erik to cover his ears. What were the managers thinking? Yet one look at their heaving bosoms or their long eyelashes and rosy lips, gave Erik a pretty good idea. He only hoped that they had chosen to put those ladies through on the merits of their visual appeal alone…for it was certainly not for their vocal talents.

And then suddenly it was time, Christine was next on the list and Erik leaned forward in his chair, hovering at the edge in anticipation. Would she be nervous? Would the bright lights frighten her? Would her hands be shaking…much like his were at that moment? He watched anxiously as she took center stage, in his mind looking very fragile and nervous with the hundreds of eyes all staring at her. She had done splendidly when she had rehearsed on the very same stage, but there had not been a packed house at the time and she had been blind as well. Perhaps it might have been a blessing if she had not been able to see all the faces before her. Yet every care seemed to fly away as she raised her eyes and found Erik looking down at her with such pride. She smiled then, squared her shoulders and gave a polite nod towards the conductor, indicating to him that she was ready. Erik knew then that his angel would soar.

The orchestra began to play the music…_his music_, and from her mouth issued forth such glorious notes that Erik was instantly rendered immobile, unable to do anything but stare at the goddess below. Christine was perfection, hitting every cue, every change in pitch and tone as effortlessly as she had in their countless rehearsals. What made it even better was the fact that she was singing the song he wrote for her…_his_ music was what was driving her to excellence. It was as if he were down there with her, his own beating heart keeping time with her voice. No one spoke, no one moved and Erik was certain that no one drew a breath until she had finished – he knew he had not. And then the audience exploded in a round of applause, many of the patrons springing to their feet to give his angel a standing ovation. Yet, no one clapped louder or smiled wider than Erik himself. He saw her look up to where her family sat and their eyes met. Erik used his skills as a ventriloquist to throw his voice directly into her ear.

"Brava, my love," he whispered, an ocean of pride filling his voice. "You were beyond resplendent. The angels weep to have heard such glory."

At his words she raised her hand to her heart and gave a slight bow, thanking him for his coveted praise. And then with one final curtsy towards the audience Christine left the stage.

Erik sat back in his chair, feeling more weary and worn out than he had when he worked all day in the quarry splitting stone. He was completely spent and wondered if Christine felt the same or if she was now full of energy over her apparent success. He hoped the outstanding response she had been given had revitalized her, for if she took first place – as he knew she would – she would need that strength to offer up a second song. A song he still did not know the name of!

"I think she did marvelously!" Anna gushed, pride in her daughter more than evident. "I always knew she could sing, but Erik, you have done wonders with her. She has much greater range now and you have improved her breathing technique tenfold."

"Do you think the judges will award her first place?" Charles asked, his fatherly worry taking hold. "I believe she more than deserves it, but what will they say?"

"If they have any ear for talent they will forget the rest of the contestants and award her first place this very moment!" Erik insisted, knowing that no matter how he wished it, it was highly unlikely they would follow his recommendation, thus forcing him to sit through yet another hour of mediocre singers before the decision was handed down. Still, he was the one who had insisted that things were done fairly, and it would have been in bad form to dismiss those others who had worked so hard to get here. Besides, Christine would kill him if he caused a ruckus on her big night, and for the sake of that alone, Erik would sit still and not make a scene.

So for the remainder of the competition, Erik busied his mind by thinking of their wedding the following night. Every detail had been personally overseen by him, including a few surprises for his little Christine. He gave a slight smile at that, thinking that she was not the only one who could keep a secret or two. His suit had been tailored to perfection, his top hat and tails just as she had requested. The decorations had been prepared, the small fair that would be served after the ceremony decided upon and Amir had even located a judge who was willing to perform the ceremony so late in the evening - for a price. But like Erik had said, no expense was too great for his angel's wedding day.

Yes, everything had been taken care of, no detail overlooked and there was only one aspect of the evening that still worried him…_the wedding night_. Oh, he did not doubt his love for her, or the fact that he wished with all his heart to share in that most intimate moment…Erik was simply afraid he might disappoint _her_. He was not a handsome man, and his knowledge of the act of love was relegated strictly to booklore and observation. Not that he had ever _wanted_ to engage in such things with anyone else, for only his beautiful Christine set his heart and body aflame. Still, if he was expected to take the lead in this ancient dance, he would prefer to be more familiar with the steps.

He looked over at Amir, who sat a few seats away, the man's attention currently given to the next contestant as she unsuccessfully tried to outdo his heavenly Christine, and Erik wondered if perhaps it might be a good idea to ask him for advice. After all, the Daroga had probably slept with more women than he had ever come in contact with in his entire life. And if the constant smile and flush of his new bride's cheeks were any indication, the Persian apparently knew how to keep Monique satisfied. It would embarrass him for sure, possibly even kill him to ask, but Erik feared displeasing Christine in the bedroom far more than he dreaded the Daroga laughing at his quest for knowledge. Erik did not want to only perform well, like every other aspect of his life, he wished to triumph! Desiring to leave his Christine breathless and calling out his name in ecstasy as she melted within his embrace. Yet to succeed at this goal he realized he needed further information, and the only man he knew well enough to provide such intimate details was currently sitting a few chairs away from him. Yes, it would be a most difficult conversation indeed, but Erik would swallow his pride and ask the man first thing tomorrow!

Erik must have been lost in thought longer than he realized for suddenly the music stopped and the two managers, Debienne and Poligny, were prancing out onto the stage as if they had personally planned the whole evening themselves. Erik simply rolled his eyes.

"We would like to thank each of you for your attendance tonight and we hope you have been well entertained," Debienne began, receiving a round of applause in response to his question. "Yet the night is far from over. As we allow our esteemed judges to confer, we offer you a pleasure for the eyes as our highly esteemed ballet company enthralls you with their rendition of La Sylphide."

There was another round of applause and the two managers made their way off stage just as the curtains opened and the graceful dancers took their places. Now it was Amir and Victor's turn to perch on the edges of their seats as the women they admired began to dance. Erik was forced to chuckle as he watched them both, acting more like hounds in heat than the gentlemen they professed to be. He had to admit that Monique was a true master at her craft and little Meg Giry was not far behind. Though at her tender years, the young ballerina lacked the allure and sophistication Amir's new wife commanded on stage. Perhaps in time the innocent little thing would mature and come into her own. Erik could only imagine that much of Monique's style had been sculpted by her many trysts with Amir, the passion she expressed in her dance a reflection of that knowledge of desire. He doubted that the young doe eyed Victor had yet to bring such things to the fore in little Meg, and if he knew her mother at all, Erik was certain that she would see that it did not happen any time soon!

Yet who was he to be judging a man's ability to bring such emotions out of a woman, when he himself now felt the need to glean this erotic information from the playboy Persian? Oh, it infuriated him to think of the look of triumph he would see on the Daroga's face at his asking.

As the ballet continued, Erik became more and more nervous; fidgeting in his chair as he could feel his palms begin to sweat beneath his evening gloves.

"Calm down, Erik," Anna whispered, noticing his agitation.

"Perhaps I should go down and find Christine," he suggested. "To be with her while she waits for the results?"

"No, you should stay right where you are," Anna insisted. "By the time you could locate her, they would have already announced the winner and you do not wish to miss her moment of triumph, do you? She expects to see you right here, cheering her on…don't leave now and disappoint her."

Erik looked down at Anna's beloved face and smiled. She always knew just what to say to ease his mind.

"I see that you too have come to the conclusion that Christine will take first place," he mused.

"Well, even if I am her mother, that does not mean I am deaf," she huffed, looking almost insulted by his observation. "You heard those other girls…my baby was clearly the best. She will receive the title for sure."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Erik chuckled, placing his hand over hers and giving it a squeeze.

And then it was time! The dancers exited the stage, having been given a standing ovation from Amir and Victor, and the two managers returned to address the anxious audience. Erik suddenly felt as if he could no longer breathe.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our judges have indeed come to a unanimous conclusion," they announced, holding up an envelope that contained the name of the winner. "We would like to thank each participant tonight for their hard work and enthusiastic performances. Yet there can be only one champion this evening, only one lady who will receive the coveted title of lead soprano at the Opera Garnier."

"So without further ado," Poligny cut in, ripping open the envelope with an overabundant amount of flair. "The lady who will be named as our new Diva is…"

Erik leaned forward, the next words out of the manager's mouth would seal the fate of many. If it was indeed Christine they announced, then all would be as it should and the evening would have been a success. Yet should they read off another's name, nothing could protect them from the flames of Erik's ire. If they feared the Opera Ghost before, they would soon be beyond terrified. He would bring the building down around their ears, haunt each and every one of those puerile judges until they were driven insane, and make the Opera Garnier a wasteland before he would see another take Christine's rightly deserved place.

And so, Erik waited for the hand of fate to fall.

* * *

**OH who will win? WHO?**

**Aren't you glad this is not a cliff hanger you have to worry about, RIGHT?**

**Oh what song do you think she will sing as her encore?**

**Did you like what Erik did for Monique?**

**Poor Amir, locked in Erik's lair for hours drinking all his scotch...oh wait...POOR ERIK!**

**Erik was nice to let Victor come along...was he not?**

**Charles hates dressing up.**

**And oh no...Erik is going to ask Amir for SEX advice? Well...he is ONE hot Persian man. ha ha.**

**PLEASE, Don't forget to send in a review before you continue...**


	47. Chapter 47

**Ummmm, are we all remembering to stop and send in reviews for each chapter so I will know what you thought of it? Don't go silent on me now just because you have more to read! **

**I need to know what you are thinking!**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 47**

**Triumph and Sweet Revenge**

* * *

"The lady who will be named as our new Diva is…Mademoiselle Christine Daae!" Poligny shouted out at last, starting a chain reaction of cheers and applause from everyone in attendance.

Yet no one was more pleased than Erik, leaping to his feet as he led the standing ovation that began within the box and was quickly followed by the rest of the auditorium.

"Brava! Brava!" Erik called out as Monsieur Reyer led Christine back out on stage to be hailed by her adoring fans. A little ballerina appeared with a bouquet of roses and handed them to the stunned young singer, as even more flowers were thrown at her feet.

"She did it," Anna whispered as Erik continued to clap, his hands stinging from the force of his applause. "My little girl's dream has come true."

"I never doubted it for a moment," Erik assured her, still not taking his eyes off his lady love. "Christine was born to take center stage and now all of Paris will know it as well."

The cheering continued until Debienne raised his hands and urged the audience to retake their seats, waiting until all the clapping had at last died down so he could speak.

"And now, honored guests, for your final treat of the evening, Mademoiselle Daae, the new Diva of the Opera Garnier, will delight us in one final performance." He then gave a very deep bow towards Christine as the three men backed away, exiting the stage.

"I suppose I will finally discover the secret Christine has insisted on keeping from me," Erik whispered to Anna as they both reclaimed their seats. Erik looked to the left to speak with Christine's father…only to find that the man was missing! "Where did Charles go? He wouldn't dare miss out on her encore, would he?" he asked, now turning around as he caught the confused eye of Amir. The Persian in turn held up his hands and gave a helpless shrug, as if to convey that he knew no more than Erik did about the subject.

"Do not worry about Charles," Anna insisted, a wise smile coming to her lips. "Instead, turn your attention towards the stage."

"What is going on here?" Erik asked with narrowing eyes, realizing that she knew more than she was letting on.

"Just watch…_and listen_," Anna instructed, gesturing for him to stop looking at her and instead to focus on Christine.

When Erik turned at last to see his darling fiancée standing amid a sea of flowers, he was shocked to find that she was no longer alone. For there, with his violin in hand, was none other than Charles Daae, looking very nervous and still pulling at his collar uncomfortably. Erik was about to bombard Anna with even more questions, but suddenly Christine spoke and all other thoughts flew from his mind.

"I would like to dedicate this song to my own personal Angel of Music," Christine began, looking up at Box Three and locking eyes with Erik. "He has done so much for my voice and touched my life on so many levels that I can think of no better way to thank him than to perform another one of his own personal compositions." She then stopped and blew him a kiss. "Erik, my darling, this is for you."

Erik was stunned…completely taken aback by her words and deeds. Christine had dedicated her final performance to him? Yet, to what work of his was she referring? She had already sung the only piece he had written for her, and he knew of no others that Christine might have obtained and rehearsed. And what was Charles doing down there? Erik was very confused.

However, the moment the first note issued forth from the violin, Erik understood everything. It was the piece he had written as a child, one he had composed on the treasured pianoforte in the basement of his old house. The very song Christine had mentioned she recognized from her own childhood, and told of how her father used to play it for her. And when she opened her mouth and began to sing, Erik just about fell out of his seat. _She knew the words as well! _The actual words he had penned so long ago, yet never shared with her in his underground home. How could she have known?

"I told you that I took all your papers with me when I returned for you," Anna explained as she noticed the confused look in Erik's eyes. "You had left not only your drawings but your music as well. I shared them with Charles and over the years he attempted to play some of them, though many were unfinished or very complex. Yet this one he thought was very beautiful and he worked very hard to master it, it quickly becoming Christine's favorite as she grew up."

"She…she told me that she recognized it when I played it for her…I just never thought…I mean I never realized…but then again, how could I?" Erik stammered, all coherent thought leaving him as he listened to his music being played from the stage by Charles. He had to give the man credit, for not many had the talent to perform his compositions as skillfully as Christine's father was now. And as he looked down at the audience, he was surprised to see that the people of Paris were…_smiling._ They actually liked his work, appreciating all he had written. For years he had chosen to hide his music from everyone, refusing to share any part of himself – especially after being forced to do so by the gypsies. When he had fled from them and their torment, he had sworn that silence would be all he gave from that day forward, choosing to bury himself beneath the earth for protection, both physically and emotionally. Yet now, Christine was offering his music to the world…and they were accepting it! No…more than merely accepting it, they appeared to truly be_ enjoying_ it!

"My little girl grew up hearing your music every night, Erik," Anna continued, taking note of the tears that had begun to fill his eyes as he listened to Christine bring his childhood song to life. "And while my arms ached to hold my long lost boy once more, it was _her_ heart that called out to yours – just as yours spoke to her through your music. You two were made for each other, being born of the same mind and wrapped in the cloak of sweet harmony. It was not just fate that brought you two together…it was love."

Erik remembered that he too had felt the same way, that finding Christine on his lakeshore could not have been a mere coincidence. She had come to Paris with the intention of auditioning at the Opera Garnier…auditioning for _him!_ And even though things had taken a bit of a wrong turn, Erik would forever be grateful for this, since it allowed an angel such as Christine to fall in love with him. The lyrics he had written for this song seemed even more suitable now, given the life he had gone on to lead. They had been words of loneliness, of sorrow and seclusion…and yet suddenly he could hear the hope infused within them as well. That silent prayer that things would not always be that way, that one day he would find that special _someone_ who would make it all right. Christine _was_ that someone, she had come into his life and made it all worth living. The girl below, raising her voice in song as she poured out her heart for him, was nothing short of a miracle. She had saved him!

When the song ended Erik could hardly move, let alone speak, yet he felt the burning need to express his heartfelt appreciation for the gift his angel had just given him. So on shaky legs he forced himself to stand in full view as he gazed down at her and covered his racing heart with his hand. She stared up at him and even though everyone in the theater was once more on their feet in thunderous applause, she had eyes for Erik alone. She understood that this time only silence could convey the emotions that ran so deeply in her lover's heart. From the look in his eyes and the tremble of his hand, Christine knew he had heard every word she had sung and understood exactly what she meant to express…her undying love for him.

After Christine was escorted away, once more being stolen from his view by those two foolish managers, Erik required a few moments of privacy to compose himself. Everyone in the box did their best to avoid eye contact with him, trying to remain otherwise occupied and allow him time to come to terms with the raw and overpowering emotions he had just experienced. When he had yet again cloaked himself in the ominous guise of the Opera Ghost and was able to speak at last, Erik suggested they all head to the Grand Foyer where a gathering had been planned for after the festival. This was mainly for introducing their new leading lady to the rich and famous of Paris, in hopes of acquiring a wealthy new patron, or two, who would help fund the upcoming opera season.

.

.

The Grand Foyer ran the full length of the second floor facing the front of the opera house and had been a masterpiece of Erik's design, much of which he patterned after The Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. Both sides of the room were lined with floor to ceiling gilded columns, with ornamented entryways in-between on one side and massive windows on the other. During the day the room was inundated with light, which the reflective golden accents only increased, yet at night was when the room truly took on a life of its own. The dozen, double tiered chandeliers that hung down each side, bathed the room in an opulent splendor that took your breath away. Matched with the awe-inspiring paintings and statues that bedecked the ceiling and walls, it left one imagining they had stumbled into the throne room of an ancient king. All of this Erik had designed, built and given to Paris, yet at his own request, his name would never officially be linked with any of it.

As the four of them stepped through the small circular Salon du Soleil and into the throng of guests who were already milling around the foyer, Erik felt his chest tighten at the idea of being around so many people. Even the fact that his newly improved rubber mask was still working well, not itching or burning his skin, was of little comfort. Years of seclusion under the opera house had done little to prepare him for a gathering such as this, yet all his fears vanished as he caught sight of his amazing Christine, protectively sandwiched between the two proud managers. For a while Erik simply stood there, staring at her while she politely offered her hand to half a dozen portly, and obviously rich, gentlemen.

He was amazed that even with all those dandies fawning over her, he felt no twinge of jealousy, knowing full well that she cared nothing for them…for she had sung only for him! When Christine also spotted him in the crowd, her eyes lit up and the placating smile she wore turned into one of a genuine nature. It was like the scenario written about in many books, where the lovers' eyes meet from across a crowded room and everyone else around them disappears, leaving only those two. And as Christine politely excused herself, leaving behind a disappointed crowd, Erik too began to walk forward until they met each other half way.

"You were amazing," Erik informed her the moment he was close enough to be heard. "I have no other words to describe your remarkable performance. Did I not say that you would take first place tonight?"

"That you did," she affirmed, a pleasing blush painting her cheeks at his praise. "But you promise that you had nothing to do with my win, correct? You did not threaten or cajole the judges into choosing me?" She hated to ask, yet old habits were hard to break and Erik had been playing the part of the influential Opera Ghost for quite some time.

"I give you my oath that you, and you alone, won yourself the title tonight," Erik told her with a reassuring smile. He would never have done anything to diminish her moment of triumph, for it had been well earned. "And if you have any doubts, just look around at the adoration on everyone's faces, you delighted both their ears…and their eyes."

"Oh, Erik," Christine said, his words causing her to blush even more. "You know that you are the only one I wish to please and delight."

"And you do, my angel," Erik assured her, leaning forward to tenderly kiss her forehead. "In fact you excel at it."

"I wish I could see more of your face than just your eyes," she whispered, their heads still close enough so that her words were not overheard. "This new mask is nice, but I miss seeing the real you…the man I fell in love with, and not some façade."

"You flatter me greatly," Erik chuckled, the idea that anyone would wish to see what he worked so hard to hide still unfathomable. Yet his little angel was full of surprises.

More might have been said but Anna, having been abandoned by Amir and Victor as they sought out their own ladies, came up beside them at that moment and broke their lovers' spell.

"That is quite enough of that, you two," Anna scolded good-naturedly. "Any more and you will have all the tongues in Paris wagging and I will not have my daughter the center of baseless rumors."

"Let them talk," Erik challenged. "Christine will be my wife by the stroke of midnight tomorrow, so why should we care what gossip they chatter on about?"

"Well, as her father…" Charles interjected, suddenly emerging from the crowd and taking his place next to his adoring wife, "…and soon to be member of the Garnier's orchestra, I would hate to have to trounce any man I hear spreading scandalous rumors."

"What?" Anna asked, looking up at him in confusion. "Member of the orchestra…I don't understand."

"They have offered Father a place in the strings section of the orchestra after hearing his splendid rendition of Erik's music on the violin!" Christine blurted out, telling her father's good new before he had a chance.

"Charles, that is wonderful!" Anna cried, throwing her arms around her husband's neck. "I know you had talked about retiring back in Sweden…but to have a chance to play at the Opera Garnier…that is an honor too great to pass up!"

"I was hoping you would feel that way, my love," Charles said with a sigh of relief. "Though it will mean moving to Paris permanently and leaving our quaint little house in the village behind."

"Home is where the heart is," she reminded him as she leaned her cheek against his chest and allowed him to engulf her in his loving arms. "And as long as I am with you, I will always be home. Besides, since Erik and Christine will be staying in Paris as well, I can't think of any place I would rather be."

"Then it is settled," Charles replied with a wide grin on his face. "I will inform the managers that I accept the position and we will move to France!"

"Oh, Father!" Christine cried, joining her mother as she too gave him a warm hug. "I am so happy you are both staying!"

"As am I," Erik agreed, his heart a little lighter knowing that he would not have to part with Anna a second time. "This news pleases me greatly. I will enjoy catching up on the time we missed, Anna." He then gave Charles a slightly uncomfortable look as he cleared his throat for his next words. "I…I also look forward to getting to know you better as well, Charles."

A warm smile spread over mother and daughter as they watched the two men they loved shake hands and exchange looks of admiration. Things had truly taken a turn for the better.

Yet as they say, nothing good can last - and the sudden appearance of a ghost from Anna's past tore them all from their blissful moment.

"Anna?" came a gravelly voice from behind, one that caused the older woman to pale noticeably and turn around ever so slowly.

"W-w-walter?" she gasped, recognizing the man before her as her ex-husband, the one who had so callously discarded her for failing to provide him an heir. Charles, knowing well the horrors associated with _that_ name, slipped his arm around his wife's waist and pulled her to him in a protective gesture. Erik too understood who this scoundrel was and took a threatening step closer, ready to defend the honor of his _mother._ Christine, however, was completely oblivious to the man's identity, and gave Erik a look of confusion and placed a gentle hand on his arm, effectively preventing him from doing bodily harm to Walter. Anna had missed Erik's menacing gesture and continued on in a surprised voice. "What…what are you doing here?"

"I came for the festival," the man explained, eyeing Charles in a highly nervous manner as he did his best to ignore the seething looks he was aiming his direction. "I must say that you look…lovely, Anna," he ventured, either very foolish or extremely brave. "The years have been very kind to you."

Anna wished she could say the same for Walter, yet even her inbred sense of courtesy would not allow her to lie and claim that he was looking well. He was nothing like she remembered him and the tall, robust man had been replaced by a frail looking shell with hunched shoulders. His once full head of flaxen hair was now solid grey and thinning to the point of looking unhealthy. If Anna were forced to describe him now, the closest thing she could come up with was…beaten down by life. Thankfully, she was spared the dilemma of returning his compliment as he pressed forward and spoke again.

"And what brings you here tonight, Anna, for I had no idea you were still living in Paris?"

"I am not…or at least I _was_ not," Anna informed him, regaining her composure as she squared her shoulders and held her head high. "My husband, Charles, and I came to Paris to hear our daughter sing in tonight's festival." She then took hold of Christine's hand and proudly pulled her forward. "May I introduce my daughter, Christine Daae, the new lead soprano for the Opera Garnier?"

"She…she is _your_ child?" Walter asked with nothing short of gaping shock. Yet even he could not deny the resemblance the two women shared in voice, if not looks, recalling how Anna had once enchanted him with her singing, back when they were young. Still, it was obvious to all who knew of their tragic history that Walter was mostly taken aback by the fact that Anna had at last become a mother! Making it painfully evident that he alone had been the one at fault in the area of conception. However, he was saved from his shock and embarrassment by the arrival of two dashing young men and a somewhat severe looking woman, her fancy dress and stylish hair unable to mask the lines of bitterness written upon her face.

"How wonderful, Father, you seem to have found the lady of the hour!" the younger of the two gentlemen commented as they joined the group, oblivious to the tension surrounding them. "May I congratulate you on your amazing performance, Mademoiselle Daae," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it gallantly.

While Erik had not been jealous before when Christine was the center of attention, for some reason this young lad caused an intense hatred to ignite within him and he felt a low growl emanate from his throat as he watched his lips graze her hand. Thankfully, no one but Christine was so attuned to Erik's moods, and his expression of displeasure went unnoticed by all, save her.

"Thank you kindly, sir," Christine responded with a polite nod. "Yet I fear you have me at a disadvantage."

"Oh, forgive my deplorable manners," he apologized quickly, stepping back and giving a slight bow. "Raoul de Chagny, at your service." He then turned to the other two he had arrived with. "This is my older brother, Philippe, and our mother, the Countess Cecilia de Chagny. I must assume that you have already met our father, since you were conversing with him when we arrived."

"I fear that I have yet to be formally introduced to him, Monsieur," Christine confessed, looking around at her family and noting their less than pleased reaction. "It would appear that your father is more in the acquaintance of my mother, though I do not quite know how. In the meantime, may I in turn present my parents, Charles and Anna Daae, as well as my…" She had turned towards Erik and intended to continue, but the stern looking woman on the arm of the older brother, Philippe, cut her off.

"Anna?" she all but croaked out, looking over at Walter in an accusatory manner. "_The _Anna_?" _When the frail looking Count gave a nervous nod and stared down at the floor, the woman all but exploded. "I want to leave now! I will not stay in this room a moment more if _she_ is in attendance! I demand you take me home immediately!_"_ She then tore her arm from her son's hold and flounced off, turning sharply as she glared at Walter with years of jealousy in her eyes. "_Are you coming?"_

"Yes, dear," Walter told her quietly, barely lifting his shame filled eyes from his shoes as he mumbled his apologies. "Forgive me…I…I must be going. Farewell…_Anna_." Her name fell from his lips as if it were a prayer, making it more than obvious why his wife held such venom for the still lovely Swedish woman. Then he was gone, following the haughty woman like a whipped dog until they were both lost amongst the crowd.

"Well, now…that was odd," Philippe muttered as he watched his parents' hasty retreat.

"You must forgive my mother," Raoul was quick to apologize to the uncomfortable group before him. "She had a terrible headache all evening and well…she was acting…like…" he was floundering, looking for the right words that would not come. Thankfully his older brother stepped in and provided them for him.

"She was acting just like her normal surly self, brother, and there is no sense in making excuses for her," Philippe retorted, his look of disgust over her actions apparent on his face.

"Yes, well…" Raoul responded, clearly embarrassed by his mother's rudeness, as well as his brother's blunt statement. "How about we forget all this unpleasantness and focus on happier matters, like Mademoiselle Daae here and her triumphant success at the festival tonight. As a potential patron of this grand opera house, I have to say I am exceedingly delighted that you will be taking the lead in this season's productions. The chance to get to work so closely with you, Mademoiselle, will greatly sway my decision to throw my hat in the running for the privilege of supporting the arts in this manner."

"_That_ will not be necessary," Erik interrupted, stepping forward and placing his own arm around Christine, much like Charles had done earlier with Anna. "Have you not heard? The position of patron for the Opera Garnier has already been filled. They have no further need of monetary aid this season…or any other to follow."

"What?" Christine questioned, having heard no such rumors around the opera house during her rehearsals. In fact, she had been led to believe that this party had been thrown for the express purpose of _finding_ a wealthy patron.

"Really, Monsieur?" Raoul asked, noticing the imposing figure in black for the first time it seemed. "And how would you know this?"

"Because _I _am the new - and only - patron for the Opera Garnier…as of tonight," Erik assured the young man, taking a step closer to him as he towered above him, looking downright threatening. "I had been waiting to announce my position depending on the outcome of the festival. Admittedly, I would not have offered my support if my fiancée here had not won the title of leading lady, yet neither was I going to make such an offer prior to the contest, for I promised Christine that I would do nothing to influence the outcome of the festival. As things now stand, there is no question that she won on her talent alone."

"You did that for me?" Christine asked, reaching out to encircle his arm as she gazed at him with appreciation.

"I promised that I would not interfere and that you would take the prize all on your own," Erik reminded. "And regardless of the often idiotic decisions of our two managers, I had no doubt that even _they_ would see your brilliance and hire you on the spot. Thus I have decided to become the new patron in order to ensure that your career is handled properly and with the right amount of artistic direction."

"I am sorry," Raoul broke in, looking a bit confused. "Did you just say Mademoiselle Daae was your…fiancée?"

"That is correct," Erik informed him with an air of pride, lifting her left hand in order to show the insolent boy the ring she wore…_his ring_. "Christine and I will be exchanging our vows tomorrow evening, whereupon she will become Madame Trouville."

"I see," Raoul responded, looking rather downhearted by the news. "Well, then…I suppose congratulations are in order and it would seem our support is not needed after all."

"Do not look so glum, boy," Charles interjected, suddenly feeling a bit sorry for the lad. While he had been prepared to hate Raoul and his older brother solely on the fact that they were raised by the man he detested most in life, he now found it difficult to punish the sons for their father's crimes…yet not impossible. "There are plenty of other establishments that I am sure would jump at the chance for your patronage. It is a fine thing to wish to further the arts, unlike your step-father, who never had such an ambition. In fact it is safe to say that fool single handedly managed to silence the most talented song bird in Paris, back in his day."

"Charles!" Anna gasped, looking at her husband with a mortified blush.

"Thank you very much for your generous intentions, Monsieur la Vicomte," Christine quickly cut in, doing her best change the subject and distract the two men from her father's less than polite statement. And though she still had no idea where all this animosity was coming from, she was sure there had to be a very good reason for it. "It is gentlemen like you who keep the arts alive in Paris and like my father said, I am sure there are many other foundations that would be honored to have you serve as their patron."

"She is right, little brother," Philippe agreed, placing his arm around Raoul's shoulder in a conciliatory fashion. "Your title and good looks will open many doors for you; all you need to do is knock on the right ones." He then looked towards the other four and gave them a warm smile and a farewell nod. "If you will excuse us now, I was hoping to find that lovely ballet dancer from tonight's performance and make my introductions." Giving Raoul a playful wink, he added, "I noticed you eyeing that pretty blond dancer as well, little brother. Perhaps she might be willing to give you the time of day?"

"Oh, yes, about that…" Christine began, intent on sparing the two gentlemen from another disappointment and hoping to let them down easy, but Erik cut her off.

"Yes, why don't you?" he insisted. "I believe I saw the very two ladies you seek at the end of the room, by the east salon."

"My thanks, Monsieur," Philippe smiled, his eyes already turning in that direction. "I wish you all a pleasant evening." And taking his reluctant brother by the arm he began to drag him off into the crowd.

"Erik!" It was now Anna's turn to scold her mischievous _son_. "Why would you send them off to try and court two ladies they have no chance in the world of obtaining?"

"As long as they are not sniffing around _my_ bride-to-be, why should I care who else has to fight them off?" Erik asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "A healthy dose of disappointment would do those jack-dandies good! And if Amir and Victor are not man enough to send those two scurrying away with their tails between their legs…then they deserve to lose their women to a couple of fops!"

"Hear, hear!" Charles agreed wholeheartedly. "For as much as I realize they are not to blame for the sins of their father, had either one of those whelps wished to be a permanent fixture here at the Opera Garnier, I would be forced to hand in my resignation before I even began. And as proud as I am that you earned your position as leading lady, Christine, the only way you would be working that closely with any de Chagny would be over my cold, dead body!"

"I would much prefer it be _their_ bodies that were both dead and cold," Erik protested. "And I assure you that I am more than capable of getting the job done!"

"Erik!"

"Charles!"

Both Anna and Christine stared at their men with mouths agape.

"I am no longer sure if I married a man or a beast!" Anna rebuked her husband sternly.

"And you swore to me that part of your life was over!" Christine added, looking at Erik in a firm manner.

"A man has the right to protect the woman he loves, does he not?" Charles insisted, coming to both his and Erik's defense. "Besides, we are only teasing!" Though from the knowing looks both he and his future son-in-law quickly exchanged, the girls found that highly questionable. "And thanks to Erik's quick thinking and little white lie, they now believe that a patron has been found, so there is no longer anything to worry about."

"Oh, but it was not a lie," Erik interjected, touched by Charles' support, yet wishing to set the record straight. "I do indeed intend on financing the Opera Garnier as their illustrious patron. In fact I have already sent out a letter making an appointment to speak to Debienne and Poligny about the matter first thing in the morning."

"What? How?" Christine once more stared at her fiancé in shock.

"I told you before that I had become quite a wealthy man in the past and my monthly salary here has only added to it," Erik informed her, a sly smile coming to his lips at her wide and confused eyes. "Yet, when I wrote to Monsieur Collier about the need for my legal papers, he also sent me back an outline of my current assets. It would appear that I am even wealthier than I imagined, and quite able to afford investing a small portion of it to see that my wife…and father-in-law…are treated very well in their new positions." He then got an irritated look in his eyes as he added, "Of course, had they _not_ chosen you as their new Diva, the meeting I have scheduled for tomorrow would not have been to their liking at all…that I assure you!"

"Erik…are you certain about this?" Christine asked, stepping closer as she looked up at his masked face, wishing she could see his true expression and not this fake one. "I mean, it would require appearing in public, attending boring meetings and dealing with…well…_the managers_. Would that not drive you insane?"

"I have spent many years learning how to handle those fools," Erik said with an indignant huff. "If I can so easily manipulate their strings like a puppet master without them ever seeing me, just imagine how they will cower as I lord my position…and money…over them in person?"

"But wouldn't they suspect who you truly are?" Christine persisted, fearing more for his safety than anything else.

"They might, but knowing how much they fear the Opera Ghost, they would never dare suggest such a thing," Erik told her, lowering his voice a bit more as he spoke so that no one milling around might overhear the sensitive subject being discussed. "Besides, with my new mask in place, why would they ever think me anything but an eccentric man who has more money than he knows what to do with. And with the installment of my beautiful new wife as resident Diva…can they blame me?"

"Well I for one very much look forward to all the changes you intend on instituting…boss!" Charles laughed, offering Erik his hand as he shook it with pride. "So if that is all settled and in the bag…does that mean Christine is no longer required to stay here and hobnob with the rich and boring in hopes of nabbing a patron? If so, I would happily kill to go home and get out of this monkey suit!"

"Careful, Charles," Erik warned with a laugh. "I might have left my murderous ways behind me, but that does not mean you should pick up the mantle. Besides, it would appear that these two beauties do not care for talk of death or killing."

"That we do not!" Anna agreed, slipping her hand through the crook of her husband's arm. "But I agree with Charles…can't we just go home?"

Erik was all in favor of this, for even though the improvements he made to his mask had helped considerably, he had now been wearing it for quite a few hours and it was beginning to cause him to sweat beneath the stifling rubber. He could think of nothing he wanted more than to strip it away and return to his comfortable leather one that allowed his flesh to breathe; however, his concern was not for himself…but instead Christine.

"Do _you_ wish to leave as well?" Erik asked the lovely woman at his side. "This is your night and I will gladly stay and allow you to bask in your much deserved glory as long as you wish."

"You know that all I wish is to bask in the love _you_ show me, and nothing else," she smiled, wrapping her arms around him as she gave him an appreciative hug. "Let's go home, Erik." She then pulled back and looked at him and her parents in turn, placing her hands on her hips with a huff of aggravation. "Besides, I am dying to hear the story about who that Walter fellow was and why you all seem to have an intense dislike for the de Chagny family. I feel as if I am being kept in the dark here!"

There was a collective silence followed by several nervous looks.

"Now that is a very long story," Anna admitted, as all four headed for the nearest exit.

* * *

**And there you have it my dears...the dreaded Raoul sighting. How did it go? Did you laugh?**

**What did you think of Walter and the way HIS life turned out. Not all roses and sunshine...was it? What a shrew he married...and all for the money.**

**Did you enjoy the digs that Erik and Charles got in? I think they bonded more over their hate of the de Chagnys than anything else so far. ha ha.**

**Awwww, Christine won the festival - big shock there, right?**

**Did you like the song she sun for him?**

**And look...Anna and Charles are moving to Paris!**


	48. Chapter 48

**Here is another chapter!**

**Did you remember to review the last two?**

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**Chapter 48**

**Satin, Lace and Candle Light**

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The very next morning, Erik made his way up the secret passages and kept his appointment with the two managers, eager to inform them of his plans now more than ever. It felt odd to actually knock on the door to their office, instead of just slipping in through the sliding panel behind Poligny's desk. Still, it was a necessary evil and Erik felt he handled the novelty rather well.

"You wish to sponsor the Opera Garnier this year?" Monsieur Debienne gasped in shock when Erik got down to confessing his intentions. "The entire season…alone?"

"I assure you, gentlemen, that I am more than capable of doing so," Erik replied indignantly.

"Forgive our doubt, Monsieur Trouville, it is just that we have never heard of you…never seen your name on any of our guest lists or even the social registry for that matter," Poligny replied in defense, doing his best to speak in a respectful manner, for fear that the mysteriously wealthy man might up and leave. "Have you even visited our opera house to see what it is you might be sponsoring?"

"I am vaguely familiar with your theatre," Erik assured them, doing his best to hide the ironic smirk this statement caused. "I am also very comfortable around music, classical productions, ballets and operas. You might say I have dabbled a bit in every field relating to the workings of a production house, and I assure you, gentlemen, I know exactly what I am getting myself into." He then leaned forward in the brown leather chair as he glared at the two men, causing them considerable unease. "As for the promise of my sizable contribution, you have no need to concern yourself. I have very deep pockets and whatever the company requires to put forth an outstanding season shall be provided…_under two conditions."_

"Conditions?" Debienne asked, not sure if he was going to like what this rather intimidating man might demand.

"If _my_ money will be funding this opera house, then I require a say in how it shall be run," Erik insisted, making the two men sit back as their eyes grew wide. "Nothing that will jeopardize your positions, of course, yet I believe you will soon see the value of my input and understand that my contributions will not only be of the monetary sort."

"And your second proviso?" Debienne continued, certain he would like Erik's next request even less.

"If you wish for my offer of support to continue, you will do everything in your power to ensure that your newly hired Diva is kept happy and content in her position," Erik warned, speaking even more sternly over this point than the last. "She will not be overworked, underpaid or treated in anyway disrespectful. The day I hear differently will be the day I pull my funding, as well as my wife, from this opera house. Is that understood?"

"Your…your wife?" Poligny stammered, suddenly very confused.

"Perhaps I am jumping the gun, just a bit," Erik mused, leaning back in his seat as he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers below his chin. "Fiancée at the moment, for we will not truly be joined in matrimony until later tonight."

"You are to marry Mademoiselle Daae?" Debienne gasped in shock, putting two and two together quite quickly.

"The very same," Erik nodded, a smug little smile gracing his lips. "So as you can imagine, I will be following her career very closely and taking more than a passing interest in the way she is treated. Have I made myself perfectly clear on all matters, gentlemen?"

"Yes…yes of course!" Poligny assured him, more than willing to bend over backwards if it meant keeping this wealthy patron on the line. They were already set on giving their new Diva everything her heart desired, so this played right into their wheelhouse. However, the idea that this man wished to be consulted about other opera matters did rub him a bit the wrong way. Still, they had already been kowtowing to the Opera Ghost for the past several years, so how much harm could one more interfering patron be? At least Monsieur Trouville was _offering_ money and not extorting it from them! "We are more than willing to work with you, Monsieur, and will gladly take your suggestions into consideration."

"You will do more than simply consider them," Erik threatened, standing up and gathering his cloak and hat. "You will follow my instructions to the letter, my good managers, or the money will stop and your little song bird will fly away. I suggest you heed my words…I am not a man you wish to displease." With that he was gone, leaving the two managers standing wide eyed and mouths open in their now empty office.

"I have a very bad feeling about this, Richard," Debienne whispered nervously. "That man is going to be a thorn in our side, I can just see it now. He appears even more dictatorial than the Ghost!"

"Who cares?" Poligny all but shouted as he threw his hands in the air. "We have only been pretending to run this theater for the past several years, while that persistent Phantom has been making all the important decisions for us…and you know it! Why should we care if another person, who obviously knows more than us, tosses out some helpful direction? And if the Opera Ghost has any objections, perhaps we let Monsieur Trouville confront him about them…for something tells me that it would be a rather evenly matched battle. But in the end, just as long as the money keeps rolling in, I say we shut up and do as the man says!"

When put that way, Maurice Debienne could not think of another negative thing to say. And so it was that the Opera Garnier secured its new patron for the foreseeable future.

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Erik left the managers' office with a slight headache…those two always had that effect on him, but he refused to let it dampen his mood. This was to be his wedding day…a day he never dreamed would arrive, let alone exist. How many years had he spent trying to convince himself that he needed no one? Insisting that he did not desire a pretty little wife like every other man who was privileged enough to own a normal looking face? Yet now, he did not need to lie to himself any longer, for he had Christine…and she loved him!

He was about to head down a deserted hallway and make a hasty exit through one of his many secret passages when he spied the Persian walking towards him carrying a rather large wooden box. When he spotted Erik, he stopped and stared, almost dropping the parcel he held.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered in an anxious voice, looking to the left and then to the right as if he was afraid of anyone seeing them. "Quick, hide! Anyone could come along at any moment!"

"Let them," Erik chuckled. "All they would see is Erik Trouville, the new patron of the Opera Garnier, speaking with…well, a rather rude buffoon in the hallway."

"The new patron?" This time the box did indeed slip from Amir's hands, spilling the contents as it struck the floor. Ballet shoes, ribbons, brushes and combs were now scattered at the men's feet, making it obvious that the Daroga had been helping Monique clean out her dressing room. "You are going to sponsor the opera house? _You?"_

"Why not," Erik mused, enjoying the look of shock on the man's face…as well as the fact that he was the one who put it there. "I have more than enough money to spend on the project and with my lovely Christine singing the lead…why would I wish to be anywhere else?"

"I… I suppose that makes sense," Amir nodded, the idea taking hold at last. "And with your new mask…I see no reason why anyone would ever be the wiser as to who was truly running the show around here."

"The Opera Ghost has been running the show around here for quite a few years now…nothing will change," Erik informed him, still a bit irked by his meeting with those idiotic managers. "Yet there was no way I was going to let some strutting peacock, like those de Chagny brothers, get anywhere near Christine!"

"Oh, don't even get me started on those two!" Amir huffed, bending down to pick up his spilled items. "Would you believe that Victor and I had to practically run those two love-struck pups off with sticks last night? With the way they were fawning over Monique and Meg you would think they had never seen a woman before! Where did they ever get the idea they had a shot with my wife?"

"Difficult to say," Erik mused, nudging an expensive bottle of perfume with the toe of his shoe, moving it closer to Amir so he could pick it up and put it in the box. "Where such irritating boys as that get their notions, is hard to predict."

"And even harder to get rid of!" Amir continued, his tone betraying his annoyance. "I was about ready to pop that Philippe boy right in the chops, especially after the way he kept kissing Monique's hand! He might have thought he was expressing his admiration with his lips, but his eyes revealed exactly what was on his mind…and it was downright obscene!"

Erik would have enjoyed needling Amir some more about the subject, however all this talk about romantic intentions made him recall his plan from last night…to ask the Persian about the finer points surrounding marital relations. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy.

"Amir," he began, hoping the use of his proper name might put him in an amiable mood. "Might I speak with you for a few moments…in private?"

The Persian was taken aback and stood up with his box once more firmly in his grip.

"Of course, Erik," he nodded, curious as to what this was all about. He had already been asked to be his best man for the wedding…what did his masked friend need now, for him to offer the toast at dinner as well? And if so, then Erik was in luck…for he had already taken the liberty of writing one up…and a very good one at that!

"Follow me," Erik instructed, leading the Daroga down to one of the secret passages and through it as they instantly disappeared. It was a bit difficult to maneuver Erik's tunnels with a box of beauty supplies, but the Persian managed and soon came out below the opera house, right at Erik's front door. Once inside, Amir was made comfortable on the settee and his hand was filled with a glass of imported brandy, causing him to become even more inquisitive…_and suspicious._

"Well, since you did not offer me any tea, I can only assume you do not mean to kill me," Amir mused as he sipped the amber liquid. "Care to enlighten me about what is on your mind?"

At first Erik just stared at the Persian, having no blessed idea how to start. Eventually though, his need for information won out and he cleared his throat several times before speaking.

"I…I wished to…well…to ask your advice on something," Erik began, wondering now if this was a good idea after all.

"On what…the color of your cravat tonight?" Amir pressed, suddenly noticing just how uneasy Erik appeared.

"No…on how I might…well, how I should…" here he took a deep breath and plunged forth, "…on how I should handle things with Christine…_tonight."_

Amir sat there in stunned silence, fully understanding Erik's meaning – even if it had been stated rather cryptically. In all his years of knowing the masked man, it never once occurred to him that Erik might be completely unfamiliar with the taking of a lover. To Amir, who had his first liaison at the tender age of fifteen, it was almost inconceivable that the man before him had lived as long as he had without the touch of a woman! Still, there was the mask to consider, so perhaps it was not as farfetched as one might think.

"Erik," Amir began, setting his drink down as he leaned forward just a bit. "Are you asking me what I think you are asking?" When Erik looked down at the floor and refused to make eye contact, he had his answer. "Well now…this is a dilemma, isn't it?"

Erik was suddenly beyond embarrassed and stood up from where he sat, pacing around the room as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Forget I asked!" he growled, just wishing to crawl in a hole and disappear…oh, wait, he was already there.

"No…no, Erik, please sit down!" Amir insisted, doing his best to calm his friend. "It is a valid inquiry and you honor me with your faith in asking. And I have to say…you have come to the right place." The last part he was unable to say without a touch of mirth creeping in, causing Erik to emit a low growl of annoyance. "I am sorry…forgive me, I could not help myself. But I promise I can, and will, handle this delicate situation like a gentleman."

"You had better, or the next thing I offer you will be some of my _special_ tea!" Erik seethed, returning to his seat, though he looked anything but comfortable as he sat there stewing in silence.

"Now… what do you wish to know?" Amir began. "I will not presume to guess your mind, so why don't you reveal precisely what aspect you wish me to inform you on."

"I am not without some knowledge of the act, Daroga," Erik spat, more humiliated than truly angry. "I lived in Persia for quite a few years and one would have to be blind not to have acquired an understanding of the basic principle…it is just the finer points I am lacking. I wish to…to _please_ my bride…not just go through the motions."

"Erik, you must know that while technique _is_ important in the pleasuring of a woman," Amir began, remaining as serious as possible in the face of such a humorous situation, "nothing holds a candle to the emotions you put into it. You could be the world's most skilled lover," here he paused for a second and waggled his eyebrows, causing Erik to roll his eyes and give an exasperated sigh, "…but if you do not care for the girl, the pleasure is diminished tenfold. And from what I have seen, you and Christine share more love for one another than anyone I have ever met…with the exception of Monique and I, of course." When Erik gave no reaction to his little joke, he cleared his throat and continued on. "Sure, I could give you a few pointers, some tips to heighten the experience…yet never underestimate the joys of playful discovery. You only experience your first time once…and it should be counted as a true blessing that the woman you adore will be sharing it with you. Just take your time, be as gentle as you can and ask questions. Find out what _she_ is thinking, what _she_ is feeling and then do everything you can to fulfil her deepest desires. Things might not be perfect the first time around, but I guarantee that you will not be disappointed if you just relax and let nature take its course."

"Let nature take its course?" Erik repeated with a scowl on his face. "You make it sound like we are a couple of wild animals in heat."

"Well…that can be fun too," Amir teased, instantly regretting his words as Erik jumped to his feet and grabbed him by the arm, hoisting him out of his seat none too gently.

"Out!" he demanded, escorting him to the door. "You are talking about the woman I love and in a manner I find highly disrespectful!"

"Erik, I was only joking!" Well, mostly joking anyway. "I would never think of Christine in that way, I swear! And you are the one who asked!"

"A mistake I highly regret!" Erik fumed, opening his door and shoving the man outside. "Now, leave my sight and don't you dare speak a word of this to anyone or the next cravat you find hanging around your neck will be my lasso!" He was about to slam the door, but the pitiful look on Amir's face gave him pause. He _was_ the one who brought up the subject, and the Persian had only been trying to help…in his odd and irritating sort of way. So with a heavy sigh he tossed the poor man a bone. "And another thing…do not be late for my wedding tonight! It would be rather embarrassing to have the best man holding up the ceremony by being tardy."

This caused the smile to instantly return to Amir's lips, knowing that even if Erik was still a bit hot under the collar, he was somewhat forgiven for his blunder.

"About that…can I bring my wife?" the Persian asked, having meant to broach the subject before this, but it never seemed the right time. "I can hardly sneak out of the house at that late hour and not have her curious as to where I am going."

"If you must," Erik conceded, though truly not seeing any harm in having her come. After all, he would be wearing his rubber mask, so it was highly unlikely that she would think to associate him with tales of the Opera Ghost. "Just instruct her not to cry, for this is to be a happy occasion…not one for tears."

"Understood," Amir nodded, quite tickled that he would be sporting his own blushing bride that evening. "Now, one more thing…could I please get my…" he was cut off by the slamming of the door in his face. Nothing new to him, but it was irritating nonetheless. "Erik…you still have my box of Monique's things! She will think I lost them if you do not give them back!" he yelled, hoping his voice would carry through the barrier between them. For the longest time there was only silence, leaving Amir to believe he had not been heard. Yet, just as he was turning to leave, the door reopened and Erik shoved the box into his awaiting hands.

"Don't be late!" he ordered, before slamming it in his face once again.

.

.

It had been decided that the wedding would be kept simple, yet elegant, and the ceremony was arranged to take place in the parlor of Anna and Charles' flat. As per Erik's earlier request, it would be kept to a small affair, with only two guests – Amir and Monique. Christine had asked if they should invite Victor, but Erik explained that he was more of an employee than a friend, and that the boy would certainly not feel slighted for not being asked. This of course led to some teasing by Christine about how he must now consider Amir his friend to have invited him – something that Erik strongly objected to.

Much to Erik's amazement, Amir was not late…in fact he was early, having hurried his wife along so that they arrived with time to spare. Anna and Monique quickly fell into a merry conversation as the graceful ballerina offered to assist with anything that still needed tending to. After a few moments of instruction, Anna left her in charge of setting out the plates and other dishes that would be used that night, while she hurried upstairs to help Christine with the finishing touches on her hair and gown. The men all stood in the parlor, talking and looking nervous as they waited for the arrival of the judge who would be officiating the wedding.

The evening was shaping up to be perfect! The stairs, entryway and parlor had been lavishly decorated with candles, flowers and satin ribbons. A small spinet had been borrowed from a neighbor and moved into place, ready to be played by Anna when Christine made her entrance – seeing as how both Charles and Erik would be otherwise occupied. The mother of the bride had been baking all day, preparing many delicious Swedish delicacies for the intimate reception afterwards. And even though Erik knew the dessert traditionally served at French weddings was a Croquembouche, he had begged Anna to make a batch of rose biscuits instead…for old times' sake.

She happily obliged.

.

.

"Are you almost ready, my dear?" Anna asked as she poked her head into her daughter's room, instantly amazed at the sight before her. Christine was standing in front of the full length mirror as she tied one of the last ribbons on the bodice of her gown. Erik had indeed spared no expense and the dress she and her mother had chosen was stunning. The long fitted sleeves and modest bateau neckline were accented with bits of lace and small pearl beads that shimmered in the light. The tight fitting bodice led down to a v-shaped waistline that spilled out into a flattering ball gown of satin and lace. It brought tears to Anna's eyes as she stepped in and shut the door behind her.

"Oh, Mother, please do not cry," Christine begged as she turned to face her. "If you do, I will as well, and then we will both look a mess for the ceremony!"

"I can't help it," she insisted, wiping at her eyes as she attempted to rid herself of the offensive tears. "You look so…so grown up."

"I hope so," Christine giggled, turning back to the mirror as she gently tugged on one side of the veil to straighten it. "I doubt that Erik would wish to marry a plaintive child - though I have to admit that I did act rather juvenile when we first met. I still can't believe he forgave me for throwing that tray of food against the wall."

"I have seen the way Erik looks at you, Christine," her mother told her with a knowing smile. "A child is the last thing he takes you for. However, you will always be _my_ child, and don't you ever forget that."

"Never," Christine assured her, leaning forward and giving her a warm embrace.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Anna asked, standing back and inspecting the vision before her. Everything seemed in order, no button missed, not a curl out of place. "Though it would appear you are all prepared and ready to take your vows."

"Well…perhaps not _all_ prepared," Christine told her, looking down at her hands nervously. "I…I could use a little bit of advice…about tonight."

"Oh, my darling girl," her mother cooed, taking her hands in her own and leading her to the bed where they both sat down. "I thought we covered this little talk before your first beau came to call, and your father instructed me to warn you about the dangers of getting overly familiar with men. Did I not explain things well enough?"

"Of course you did," she quickly assured her. For in fact Christine was quite knowledgeable on the aspects of physical love, her mother leaving nothing out during their discussion. "I know what to do…I just…well, I was hoping you could tell me how I should act. Should I be shy and allow him to set the pace, or be bold and actively participate? How do men like their women to behave?"

"Like themselves, of course!" Anna laughed, reaching up and cupping Christine's cheek tenderly. "Erik would not wish for you to be anyone but the woman he fell in love with. If you are feeling shy or unsure tonight, there is nothing wrong with that and do not pretend to be otherwise. Speak to him about your feelings, and if he is half the man I know him to be, then he will do his best to set your mind at ease."

"But what if he is just as nervous as I am?" Christine asked, knowing from experience that all too often Erik felt just as unsure as she did when it came to expressing their feelings for each other. "I do not wish for both of us to be so insecure that we botch the whole thing and end up sleeping on opposite sides of the bed!"

"Christine, you are overthinking this," Anna said with a sigh. "Marriage, and what follows, is one of the most natural things in life, and I assure you that if you just relax, there is nothing to worry about. You and Erik love one another, the rest will take care of itself." She then got a sly grin on her face. "Besides, from what you told me Erik said about your behavior when you were intoxicated, I doubt you will be playing the coquet tonight. And if you are still concerned, I will slip a bit of alcohol in your punch when no one is looking."

"Mother!" Christine gasped, trying hard to sound scandalized and not laugh.

"I am only trying to help, dear," Anna insisted, unable to hide her playful smile. "Your father and I have enjoyed a very satisfying love life for many, many years. I only want the same for you, Christine…it is a blessing I wish for _both_ of you to share in."

"You really care for him, don't you, Mother?" Christine questioned, the answer being obvious.

"I have loved Erik from the first moment I saw him," she nodded, a true mother's affection shining in her eyes. "He was such a dear little boy and so in need of care…and he still is. Erik has suffered greatly, in mind and body, but his heart has always remained pure. Treasure his love for you, Christine, and never take it for granted, for a stronger bond you will never find. It is a mother's dream that her children find a good mate in life, to care for and protect them. I am twice blessed that my daughter has been well matched with the boy I long ago came to think of as my son."

Both women were now in tears, but neither one cared as they embraced each other and cried all the harder.

.

.

As the clock struck nine the judge finally arrived, and after speaking with the groom for a bit he took his place in front of the fireplace and proceeded to look over the words he would soon recite. Erik was starting to get nervous, and just like Charles had done the night before, he began to tug at the constricting collar of his suit. Were all grooms this anxious?

Anna came down the stairs just then, dabbing her eyes as she announced that the bride was ready, sending Charles back up to fetch her. She then took her seat at the spinet, prepared to play the moment she saw them enter.

"Simmer down, Erik," Amir whispered as he saw his friend begin to fidget. "There is nothing to this marriage stuff," he insisted, nodding his head towards where Monique sat nearby, looking pretty as a picture as she smiled back at him. "I survived my wedding day, I am sure you can do the same."

"I wish I had your confidence," Erik answered back in a low voice, hating the fact that Amir was being all logical again. "Just promise me that if I pass out, you won't remove my mask and start fanning me with it." He then gave the perplexed man a wry grin. "I would hate to cause a panic and have your wife trample the judge in a rush to get away from the dreaded Opera Ghost."

"Oh, Erik," Amir huffed. "I had hoped that today of all days you would realize that your looks truly do not matter." When Erik gave him a skeptical glance, Amir continued. "Well, it does not matter to those who love you or who are your true friends. And one day you will come to understand that as well."

"I hope you are right," Erik nodded, suddenly thinking of the day his own child might see his unmasked face. Now _that_ would be a critical moment for sure.

.

.

Charles made his way up the stairs, prepared to escort his little girl down, but what he saw took his breath away. Wasn't she only a babe in his arms just yesterday? Where had the time gone, for now he saw a beautiful young woman standing where his little girl once was. The thought brought tears to his eyes, but he was not ashamed and made no attempts to hide it.

"Please be happy for me, Father," Christine begged, upon seeing the emotion written across his face.

"I _am_ happy for you, Christine," he assured her, taking her face in his palms and leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. "I am both happy and proud...I am simply a bit saddened by the fact that I am losing my little girl."

"You could never lose me," she insisted. "Now that you and mother are moving to Paris, and since we will be working together at the opera house, we will see each other nearly every day."

"I know, but still, it will never be the same," he continued with a heavy sigh. "Not like it used to be when I was the only man in your life. When you would come running to me to fix your broken toys or kiss away the pain of a skinned knee. I will miss those days."

Christine leaned in and wrapped her arms around her father as she laid her head on his chest.

"I am a grown woman now and I have been very careful with my toys and have not broken any in a very long time. And I can't recall the last time I got a skinned knee...but that does not mean I don't need you anymore. I will always need you, Father. Be it for advice, love or simply someone to listen to my worries and cares."

"Ahhhh, but you have Erik for those things now," he reminded her. "And you two should share the burden of such cares with each other now, for that is how it should be and I will not begrudge that." He then pulled her back from him and smiled down at her with love in his eyes. "Just remember your father every once in a while and I will be more than content."

"Always," she promised.

"Well, then, how about we get this wedding started?" Charles suggested, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief before stuffing it back in his pocket. "There is a man waiting for you downstairs and something tells me that he is not the most patient of sorts."

"You have noticed, have you?" Christine chuckled as her father brought the lacy veil down over her face. Then, taking her hand, he tucked it within the crook of his arm.

"Are you ready?" Charles asked.

"I am," was her confident reply.

.

.

Erik was on the brink of insanity, the wait having more than frayed his already tenuous nerves, but the moment he heard Anna begin to play, all his fears came to an abrupt end. Turning to his left he caught sight of his bride for the first time, her wedding dress only adding to the beauty that always surrounded her. He had not been given any description of her gown, Anna telling him it was customary for the groom to see it for the first time at the wedding. Erik had not appreciated being kept in the dark, but went along with it willingly to please both Christine and his mother-in-law. However, now he knew the reason for the secrecy and completely understood why she had forbidden him to see it. For even partially hidden by the veil, Erik could see the look of triumph on her face – telling him she had received the reaction she had been hoping for…Erik's pure amazement!

He had often thought Christine was perfect in every way, but the sight of her in that dress, looking so innocent and lovely, would forever be burned into his mind. And to think that she was offering herself to him...well that was almost beyond his comprehension.

He was torn from his thoughts when Amir elbowed him in the side and gave a humored whisper.

"Close your mouth, Erik," he told him jokingly, though in truth Erik's jaw had dropped when he first spied Christine making her way down the stairs on her father's arm. "We don't want her to think she is marrying some lustful fool."

"She would only think that if she was marrying you," Erik retorted, though he never took his eyes off of Christine.

This earned a harrumph from the best man, but the smile never left his face, insuring that he was not taking anything Erik said personally.

As Christine was escorted through the entryway and into the parlor, Anna ended her music and silently moved to sit in one of the chairs reserved for her and Charles. When they came to stand before Erik, the judge cleared his throat and spoke, breaking the moment of silence.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" he asked.

"I do," Charles responded, his voice cracking only slightly as he did so. "Her mother and I both offer our daughter to this man without reservation." He then took Christine's hand in his, kissed it gently and placed within Erik's eager grasp. "Treat her well, son," Charles instructed.

"You know I will," Erik assured him with a solemn nod.

Then with one final sad smile, Charles stepped back and went to sit next to Anna, who immediately entwined her fingers with his and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

And so Christine and Erik stood before the judge, their family and friends and repeated those sacred vows to one another. They chose the traditional words to be said, already having spoken their private ones to each other behind the walls of the opera house during Amir and Monique's wedding. Erik only had to be prompted twice when it was his turn, being so overwhelmed by the moment, as well as the sight of his smiling bride.

When it came time for the judge to ask if rings were to be exchanged, Christine opened her mouth to explain that she already wore the ring, but Erik held up his hand and halted her words. He then reached into his coat pocket and extracted the most breathtaking piece of jewelry she had ever seen. The blue sapphire, encircled by a row of diamonds, glittered in the candlelight, and caused a gasp to issue forth from every woman in the room, including Christine.

"I promised that I would replace the ring I gave you with one that matched the blue of your eyes and the sparkle of your smile," Erik informed her, as he gently slipped the small golden band off and replaced it with the magnificent new one. "Yet even this pales in comparison to the way you shine. You are perfection itself, Christine, and all I have ever desired in life. Thank you for becoming my wife."

"Oh, Erik," Christine choked out, tears springing to her eyes as she glanced from him, to the ring and then back again. "I love you so much." And then taking the small golden band back from him, she in turn placed it on the pinky of his left hand, deciding it would have to do.

Once the rings were exchanged and the pronouncement made that they were now husband and wife, Erik needed very little urging when he was told he could kiss the bride. Raising Christine's translucent lace veil and revealing her beaming smile, he leaned down and sealed his promise of love, life and fidelity to her with a heartfelt kiss.

The guests erupted in a round of applause, causing both of them to part with a happy laugh. It was done. Erik and Christine were now married and nothing could ever separate them again.

.

.

After the judge had been paid and left, the remaining guests sat around and enjoyed the rest of the evening. Monique and Christine were hitting it off well and even Erik seemed to have relaxed considerably, now that all his dreams had come true. He found it difficult to take his eyes off of Christine for very long, even if he was busy conversing with someone other than her…but no one seemed to notice or care. The food that Anna had prepared was happily consumed and when Monique asked about the substitution of the rose biscuits instead of cake, the entire party was entertained by the telling of how Anna had learned to cook with Erik's help.

All in all it was a very enjoyable evening and no one wished for it to end. However, when the clock struck midnight, Amir and Monique announced that they had to depart. This soon left Erik and Christine alone with her parents, and an almost awkward tension could be felt in the room.

"Would you two care for some more tea…or coffee perhaps?" Charles asked, obviously doing his best to stall the inevitable.

"No, thank you, Father," Christine smiled. "I think it is time that we be leaving as well."

"Are you sure?" he persisted. "The night is still young and I am certain that Anna has plenty more stories to tell from her and Erik's past."

"That I do," Anna smiled, placing her hand on her husband's arm. "Yet they can wait for another day. I think we need to let these two leave."

"It was a beautiful wedding," Erik interjected, extending his hand to Charles. "I am in your debt for all your assistance and for the use of your home. It means a lot to both of us."

Charles nodded almost sadly as he shook Erik's hand, realizing that there was no stopping the two of them from going now. He then reached out and pulled Christine to him in a warm embrace, kissing her forehead as he reluctantly released her.

"Be sure to come for dinner tomorrow if you can," Anna insisted. "There is so much food left over that it would be a shame to see it go to waste."

"We will try," Christine agreed, doing her best not to commit to anything just yet, not knowing how the next twenty-four hours would go.

"Good night," Erik bid as he helped Christine into her powder-blue cloak and escorted her out the door.

Charles and Anna stood on the stoop and watched as the couple hailed a cab and disappeared down the darkened streets.

"Well…I guess that is it," Charles sighed, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind. "Christine is all grown up and married. Now it is just you and me, Anna."

"And what is wrong with that?" she asked in an accusatory tone. "When you agreed to marry me you believed that it would always be only the two of us. Now are you thinking that I am no longer enough to fill your life?"

"Certainly not!" Charles stated firmly, turning her around so that she was now facing him. "I could never ask for anything more than you beside me as we go through life. It is just that…well…I will miss our little girl."

"As will I," Anna smiled. "But do remember…with marriage often comes children and did you not say you were looking forward to being called Grandfather?"

"I do recall saying that," he mused, letting his eyes drift upwards as a wide smile crossed his lips. "I think I would like a grandson first, and then a little girl who is the spitting image of Christine."

"You will get what they give us and be more than happy," she instructed, leaning up to give him a warm kiss. "Now, it is cold out here. Let's go inside and you can help me clean up before we go to bed."

"How about we clean up tomorrow and head upstairs now," he suggested, with that merry twinkle in his eye that always promised Anna a romantic night of love.

"Far be it from me to turn down such a delicious offer as that, my dear husband," Anna laughed, locking the front door before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs.

* * *

**How did you like his meeting with the Managers?**

**Amir and Erik's sex talk?**

**Christine and her mother's sex talk?**

**Charles having to give away his little girl?**

**The wedding and the serving of rose biscuits instead of cake (look up a Croquembouche...they look so pretty)**

**What did you think of Charles not wanting them to leave. ha ha.**

**Next up...the wedding night (smut light style)**


	49. Chapter 49

**Here is the wedding night. Like my other stories, it is SMUT LIGHT so if are not into the lemony moments, you are pretty safe here. But just in case I thought I should warn you.**

**Read responsibly.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 49**

**At Last**

* * *

Erik and Christine spent the short carriage ride back to the opera house sharing innocent kisses, cuddles and speaking in low whispers, doing all they could not to alert the driver to their actions. Though, having picked up a man, accompanied by a woman in a wedding dress must have been a dead giveaway that it was a pair of newlyweds he was currently transporting. The driver stopped a block away from their destination, per Erik's request, and received a very handsome fee for his efforts, thanking them both and wishing them well as he drove off into the night. It was then just a quick jaunt back down to their underground home, the journey a hurried one as Erik wished to get his new bride out of the damp caverns and into the warmth of their home. _Their home_...the idea would take a while to get used to.

When they were at last in the sitting room, the cheerful blaze from the gas fireplace warmly greeting them, they found that their easy nature up to this point had quickly fled, leaving them slightly shy and awkward.

"Are you hungry?" Erik asked, as he assisted Christine out of her cloak. He still found himself mesmerized by how she looked in her gown, so innocent and pure, and certainly not deserving of the wickedly lustful glances he had been throwing her way all evening.

"No...are you?" she responded.

"I am not," he assured her, though he had almost wished she had been, for it would have given him some occupation to distract his spinning mind. "Would you care for a drink, perhaps?"

"Do you have any more of that delicious Aragh Sagi?" she asked suddenly, recalling how just a few sips had drastically altered her inhibitions. Something she could certainly use at the moment.

"I am afraid not," Erik said with a smile. "It would seem that you singlehandedly depleted my stock of that particular brand. Yet I have champagne and a very nice red wine prepared."

"Some wine would be lovely," she nodded, thinking that any port in a storm would do. She had no intentions of getting as inebriated as she had the last time, yet a few sips might take the edge off, just as her mother had suggested. Once Erik had gone to fetch the drinks, Christine silently scolded herself, deciding that she should not really be thinking about her parents at this particular moment. Instead she should be focused on Erik...on his needs and what he might be expecting of her this evening. She was not afraid to offer it...whatever _that_ might entail...but she was just not quite sure how to go about it. So, she decided to be patient - at first - allowing him the opportunity to take the lead…should he wish to do so.

Erik soon returned and handed her a partial glass of red liquid, warning her to be careful as she began to sip at it, for fear that a stray drop might stain her dress. It was such a lovely gown that he hated to imagine it being ruined in any way. This got him to thinking that he would need to be very careful when he got around to taking it off of her...if she indeed allowed him to do such an intimate thing. Erik had given this a lot of consideration over the past few weeks, and Amir's somewhat irritating advice had done little to calm his fears. He did not wish to appear overly anxious, though neither did he wish to cause her to believe that he was not aroused by his beautiful wife. He needed to find a middle ground and proceed from there.

"I thought the ceremony was lovely," Christine spoke up, cutting the silence that had settled over them. She had been watching him as she finished off her wine, wondering what thoughts were running around in that genius mind of his.

"Yes, very," Erik agreed, thankful for the new topic. "Your parents did a wonderful job of organizing things at their flat...it was truly perfect."

"You did a lot as well, Erik," Christine insisted, knowing just how involved he had been. Her parents might have done the leg work, but Erik had been the one running the show, leaving nothing to chance...and she loved him for it. "I hope it was everything you had ever dreamed of."

"Just having you say _yes_ exceeded every expectation I had in life," he insisted, taking the now empty glass from her hand and setting it down on the table next to his own, before moving forward to encircle her around the waist, drawing her closer. "When I saw you descending those stairs and heading towards me...I...I thought I was dreaming. You are more than I deserve, Christine Daae..."

"Ah, ah, ah," she said in a contradicting manner, holding up a finger to stop his words. "Christine Trouville, if you please," she corrected, enjoying the warm smile that spread over his lips. "And as your wife, I believe I now have a say in what you do, or do not, deserve. And I say you are entitled to all the happiness I can offer you, my darling." She then reached up and let her fingers play at the edge of his rubber mask. "Might we finally get rid of this? I would very much like to see my husband's face while we speak. This one is fine for outings, but it does not allow me to read your expressions and I want nothing as a barrier between us tonight."

While Erik knew she had strictly meant his mask, he could not help but give a wolfish grin at the thought of there being nothing between them at all...and he certainly hoped it would come to that in the very near future.

Christine must have sensed his thoughts, for she could not help the slight blush that colored her cheeks and she hurriedly looked away.

Quickly becoming concerned, Erik reached out and tipped her chin up so that she was once more looking in his eyes.

"We will do nothing tonight that you are not ready for," he insisted, his tone leaving no doubt in her mind that he meant every word.

"Erik," she began, letting her hand once more rise to caress his masked cheek, "I willingly became your wife today and I want to fulfill that role in every way possible. Never doubt my love…or desire for you. But first, I wish to remove this mask. May I?"

"It will take a bit of effort," Erik insisted, though only too happy to comply if it meant getting to the part of the evening she had just spoken of. "I am required to use stage glue to keep the edges down, making it appear more realistic."

"Then come into the lavatory with me and we will see that it is done properly," Christine insisted, taking his hand as she led him through her bedchamber and into the adjoining room. She had been so focused on their destination that she failed to notice Erik's look of longing towards the bed in their passing.

Once inside, Christine sat Erik down on the wide edge of the bathtub and headed to the sink in order to soak up a washcloth. Then she returned and began to help him peel the flesh colored rubber from his face, leaving behind a few smudges of tacky glue as well as some expected redness from his skin being confined and unable to breathe all evening. Erik instinctively moved to cover his face with his hand, but Christine stopped him.

"Erik…I told you never to hide yourself from me," she gently scolded, smiling down at him with all the love in her eyes.

"I…I cannot believe that you are able to look upon me without showing fear," he stammered, the idea still so alien to him.

"I can only imagine all the different ways I might look at you as we spend our lives together," she said with a chuckle. "With joy, anger, disbelief and most assuredly with love…but never in fear! It does not matter to me what you look like, Erik…for it was your heart that entranced me, leaving me completely captivated and under your spell. Now, let's get you all fixed up," she added with a wink of her eye.

Ever so gently and with such loving care, Christine began to bathe Erik's face, watching as he shut his eyes and relished the attention. It made her smile to see that he was becoming more comfortable around her, even with his mask taken away. This would bode well for what she hoped would take place very soon.

When she was satisfied with her efforts, she handed him a towel, allowing him to dab his face dry. It was while she was admiring all that her new husband was, that Christine noticed something directly behind him for the very first time.

"Erik…where does that door lead?" she questioned, stepping away as she walked towards it curiously. "I did not know there was another entrance to this room." Yet how could she, without her eyesight she had been dependent upon Erik to tell her such things, or feeling around for herself.

"It…it exits into my bedchambers," he explained, a bit sheepishly for never having revealed this detail about the room. "Yet, while you were staying here I never made use of it…well, except for one time," he felt obligated to confess.

"Oh, right…the night I almost caught you in the bathtub," Christine giggled, laughing all the harder when Erik's eyes grew wide with shock.

"You knew?" he gasped. "You knew that I was here in the room and yet you said nothing?"

"Well…I _suspected_," she amended. "But when I heard your voice coming from the other room, I convinced myself that I was mistaken. Yet after my mother told me the story of how you learned to throw your voice, I returned to my first assumption. And now, you have just confirmed it!"

"I admit that I was rather terrified when you began to head in my direction," Erik confessed. "I did not know of any other way to make you leave and preserve my dignity."

"Erik, I was blind!" Christine reminded him. "Even if you had spoken up, it was not as if I would have seen anything."

"Regardless, my use of the bathtub was in direct violation of the agreement I had made with myself to allow you strict privacy," he huffed, more upset with himself than anything else. "Besides, you had your hand outstretched and I certainly could not have you coming into contact with anything, now could I?"

Christine remained mute on the subject, her eyes and slight grin telling Erik that she was now imagining just what might have happened if she had been allowed to continue her search that night. But before he could comment on it, she quickly changed the subject.

"May I go inside?" she asked, pointing to the door that he claimed led to his room. "I know I came in that one time you had your nightmare, but I would like to see it for myself now that my sight has returned…if that is all right with you?"

"Of course," he nodded, his throat becoming suddenly dry at the thought of his little angel standing within his bedroom. Yes, she had been in there once before, like she said, but he had not had time to contemplate the significance of a woman – of _Christine_ \- being in his private chambers.

Turning the knob and pushing the door open, Christine stepped inside and looked around. Erik followed directly behind her and watched as her eyes darted to the left and right, taking in the furnishings and decor that were illuminated by the handy gas lights. Yet even with the lighting, the room was extremely dark, for everywhere she looked was black. From the furniture to the blankets on the bed, everything was a shade of ebony or charcoal, creating a very ominous effect in the room.

"Well…" Christine began, looking back at Erik with a raised eyebrow, "it would appear that I was not missing much by still being blind the last time I was in here. We are seriously going to have to introduce some color into your life, Erik Trouville."

"You are all the color I will ever need," he insisted, leaning against the doorjamb as he stalked her with his eyes. It was almost as if she were glowing, standing there in her white, virginal gown, looking so amazingly beautiful.

It was then that Christine realized - just as it had been with their first kiss - if anything was going to happen between them that night, she would have to make the first move. It was obvious that Erik was holding back, not daring to push her into anything she did not want – yet little did he know just how much she wanted this…wanted _him!_ So, gathering all her courage she gave her husband her best come-hither look and sauntered over to the large black four posted bed in the middle of the room, gracefully lowering herself down on it as her skirt spilled out over the edge. She could tell from the almost startled look on his face that her actions were both shocking…and highly pleasurable.

"Would you care to join me, Erik?" she asked, trying her best to sound self-assured.

Erik was left breathless. How often had he lain in that very bed and dreamed of such a moment? His mind vividly recalled each night, as images of Christine tormented his sleep, as well as his traitorous body, until he felt he might go mad from wanting her. And now, here she was, sitting there on that very same bed and looking oh, so inviting. Her white dress was a stark contrast to the black coverlet she rested on and he couldn't help but think how out of place his little angel looked in this den from hell. Yet despite all his sinful thoughts and the dark color of their surroundings, Erik had never felt so close to heaven in his life. So, willing his legs to obey at last, he began to walk towards her, answering her irresistible invitation.

Once he had approached, she extended her hands and took hold of his, easing him down onto the edge of the bed beside her, never once taking her eyes off of him. They sat there for a while, lost in the moment that they both feared might never come, until Christine cleared her throat and spoke up.

"Erik…as much as I wish for things to continue going forward," she began, a blush adding to the beauty of her delicate cheeks, "I fear that…that I have come to the end of my courage and I would be ever so grateful if you would take the…"

Christine never got to finish her sentence for at that moment, instantly anticipating her needs, Erik had reached out and taken her face within his palms, pulling her closer as he covered her lips with his own, effectively silencing any further speech. The kiss had begun almost franticly, as if he had forced himself to act for fear the moment might be destroyed. Yet as they settled into a more relaxed and passionate embrace, all thoughts of hurrying flew out the window. Erik was now lost in the touch and feel of his bride, realizing that there was nothing left to prevent this moment from continuing on to its natural conclusion. He could hear the little moans and sighs emanating from her, and they spurred him on even more. Without breaking the kiss, Erik took his hands away from her face, letting them slip to her shoulders, down her arms and then over to the bodice of her dress. There his nimble fingers began to tug at the small ribbons that secured the front of her gown, his desire mounting as each one gave way to reveal a bit more of her tantalizing flesh. When he had finished, he pulled back, watching as her eyes fluttered open and held them in a steady gaze as his hands returned to her shoulders. Ever so slowly he eased the wedding dress down over her arms and torso until her upper body was exposed to him, now only clad in her enticing corset. He had expected her to blush or possibly even attempt to cover herself from his lustful stare, but instead she held eye contact and never faltered once. And what he saw mirrored there in her blue orbs made his heart skip a beat…it was pure desire that resided there! Desire for him!

Encouraged by what he saw, Erik pushed forward, taking her by the waist and effortlessly lifting her to her feet as he gently spun her around and undid the final clasps that allowed her gown to slip from her body and pool at her feet like a fluffy white cloud. He offered her his hand and she gracefully stepped out of it as she took her position before him, her sheer stockings and lacy pantaloons only adding to the tormenting effect. Divesting her of her wedding attire had been amazing indeed, yet he knew removing the final wrappings of this precious gift would be a pleasure beyond compare.

He was broken from his thoughts by the feel of Christine's little hands as they slipped up and began to remove his jacket, followed by his vest and cravat. Yet when she started on the buttons of his white dress shirt, he felt the need to halt her progress, once again looking down at her with sadness in his eyes.

"My face is not the only part of me that is…_unsightly_," he reminded her. "I do not wish for you to be frightened or disgusted by what you are about to see."

"I promised you that I would never look upon you in fear, Erik," she told him. "However I cannot guarantee that I will not become disgusted by the damage that was so cruelly done to you. Yet, the revulsion will be for those who _caused_ it…not for you. Never you!" She then began to resume her work and soon he was shrugging out of his shirt, leaving his upper body exposed to her inquisitive little eyes.

And _look_ she did! First Christine inspected his chest, allowing her hands to trace over the old scars and wounds she found there, before circling around as she did the same thing with his mutilated back. Erik had shut his eyes at her first touch, both from the sheer pleasure of it all as well as not wishing to see the expression of pity from what she saw. Yet when she came back around, her hands never once leaving his damaged skin, he couldn't help but take a peek, morbid curiosity driving his need to see what she might be thinking. And while he indeed detected pain in her eyes, he was beside himself with relief that he did not see fear…only love.

Without another thought, Erik leaned forward and scooped her up into his arms, relishing the happy squeal she let loose as he stepped towards the bed. With one fluid motion he laid her down, watching as her small frame was swallowed up by the downy coverlet. His mind suddenly flashed back to the last time she had lain half-dressed on a bed before him, and he knew that this time he would take great pleasure in ridding her of her clothing…and he would most assuredly keep his eyes open the entire time!

The welcoming smile never left her face and Erik knew that this moment would be etched in his mind for all time. Many years ago, the idea that he _could_ one day be loved had been placed within his battered little heart…that he could truly become worthy of such a miraculous thing. And now, here was Christine, presenting to him not only her amazing love, but her mind and body as well…and Erik was at last completely ready to accept what was offered.

.

.

Hours later Erik lay there staring at the ceiling, his mind unable to shut off and allow him to sleep, unlike his precious companion, who dozed beside him. It had been all he had ever dreamed of and more, exceeding his wildest expectations and taking him to such glorious heights he had wondered if he would ever come down again. Christine had been so willing, so encouraging and so incredibly desirable that fear and self-doubt never once entered his mind. Much to his horror, the Daroga had been right about the pleasures of playful discovery and in the end, they had allowed instinct to take over and let nature take its course. They had spoken very little, letting their gentle touches and shy smiles do most of the talking, but Erik had found it necessary to ask about her condition at critical junctures during their coupling, wishing to make sure she was not experiencing any discomfort. To his infinite joy, all inquiries were answered with words of assurance and love, spurring him on towards their ultimate goal…wedded bliss. And when that moment came, Erik did not know whether to cry out with joy or break down in grateful sobs…and thinking back, he might have done a combination of both. Now here he was, lying in his bed with a sleeping angel in his arms, trying to fathom how this had all come about.

A part of him wondered if it was all simply a dream, one he had unknowingly concocted to alleviate the loneliness that had been slowly overtaking him. Would he suddenly wake to find it was all make-believe? Was he at this very moment alone in his own bed…dreaming? Perhaps still a prisoner of his own mind back in Persia…or worse yet, caged and alone in the gypsy camp? He shuddered to think of such things, pulling his oh-so-real feeling wife a bit closer, relishing the sensation of her body against his. This _had_ be true, for he could smell Christine's heavenly scent and sense the heat radiating off of her as it warmed him to his toes. But best of all…he could hear her breathing, the soft rhythmic rise and fall of her chest convincing him that all was right with the world.

He wanted nothing more than to wake her so they could speak, yet he was unwilling to have her to move from his embrace. He had been stroking her hair, her arm and any other part of her exquisitely soft skin he could reach without jostling her awake, yet soon it would no longer be enough. Yes, he wanted to take her once more and relive the pleasures they shared all over again, but mostly he desired her company, her words and her smiles. He was hopelessly addicted to her now and there was no way he could ever go back to the way things had once been. His life was once filled with loneliness and pain, yet through it all a blessed ray of light had found him. Originally it had come in the form of Anna, the first person to ever give him hope, but then, to his infinite joy, Christine had found him as well, gifting him with a perfect mate in life, one he could easily call his better half. He was darkness, while she was light…he was sorrow and she brought joy…he was her husband and she was his wife!

As a wave of gratitude washed over him, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head that lay upon his bare chest, enjoying the feel of her curls as they tickled his unmasked face. He felt her stir and stretch, giving an adorable yawn as she turned her head to look up at him with sleepy eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked in a dream filled voice.

"Still early," he informed her, his internal clock alerting him to the time almost as accurately as a tightly wound pocket watch. "Shhhh, go back to sleep, my little wife."

"Yes…I _am_ your wife," Christine agreed, pulling her left arm from beneath the covers and staring at the back of her hand with a smile. "I love my ring, Erik. I never knew such a lovely thing could exist…and yet here it is, so sparkly and sitting on my very own finger."

"You deserve only the best, my love," Erik told her, kissing the top of her head. "I never want you to doubt or question my devotion to you and now that you have your sight back, every time you look at that ring, you will know that I value you more than all the gold and diamonds in the world."

Christine then reached out and took hold of his left hand, bringing it up so that she could also inspect his ring.

"I should have thought to get you a ring as well," she told him, her voice sounding a bit embarrassed that she had not done so.

"No…I wish for no other than this," he insisted, fisting his hand as if to forbid her from taking it from him. "For though it held no real sentimental value in the past, the moment it rested upon _your_ finger, even if only for a while as it served as a symbol of our engagement, it has taken on a whole new meaning for me. Whenever I see this ring, it will remind me of that day that you said _yes_. The moment that you said the one word that changed my whole life. This is also the ring you gave back to me at our wedding and I will never…and I mean never, take it off."

"I am glad…for I would have missed it terribly if it had been put away in a box somewhere. Now I can see it every day as well," she smiled.

"That you shall," he nodded, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "However, it is not yet day…so go back to sleep my love."

"I don't wish to sleep," she argued, rolling over so that she now lay across him, her hands folded under her chin as she stared into his eyes. "You are awake as well, so why shouldn't we take advantage of that?"

"You…you wish to…again?" Could he possibly have fallen back asleep and was now only dreaming?

"Well…it would appear that my parents are dead set on us giving them a grandchild," she pointed out, now running her finger across his chin, down his neck and across his chest in a seductive manner. "And you know what they say…practice makes perfect."

"That is all I ask, my love," Erik said, his voice turning serious.

"Ask what?" Christine was a bit confused.

"That our children be perfect…just like their mother," he explained, reaching out and taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

"Erik, you know what my mother said. You need never worry about such things, but no matter what, we will love them and they will love us," Christine insisted. "But first…I believe there is some effort needed on our part in order to make them. Would you care to join me in that endeavor, my husband?"

"I would be delighted to…my little angel," Erik whispered as he quickly rolled her over and hovered above her for only a moment before claiming her lips in another passion filled kiss…one that held the promise of forever.

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**And there we have the end of the body of the story. The Epilogue is all that is left. I will be posting it by tomorrow, but I would like to insert a few of my guest reviews at the start of it before I post and I have quite a few to go through. I will get it out by tomorrow though. So hold on...**

**So how did you like the talk of the time she almost caught him in the tub?**

**Was the smut light tastefully done (don't feel you need to elaborate too much on that, ha ha)**

**Are you ready for the final chapter? Then it will be all over...so sad.**

**Thanks for stopping and reviewing.**


	50. Chapter 50

**I am going to post the epilogue now and then on Friday, June 19th I am going to post a final chapter with all the responses to my wonderful guest reviewers. That way I can tell them thank you and answer questions to ALL the chapters at once. I will leave the 'response chapter' up for a week and then take it down so that later on people will not think there are 51 chapters to this story when there is only 50. **

**So be sure to go read my responses dear "GUEST READERS". I wish I could contact you all personally to say thanks, but this will have to do.**

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**Now, here it is. The last chapter and where you find out everything that happened to our dynamic duo! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**PS...it is LONG! Over 12,000 words!  
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**Superphantomlock123:** I have been getting your comments, but since you have your "reply back option" turned off, I can't tell you thanks for all your kind reviews. Please know that I am getting them and that I appreciate them very much. I am tickled you like my Erik and Christine...as well as Anna and Charles. Thanks!

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**PhantomFantasy: ** Hey, sorry I am ripping your heart out, but hopefully by now you are back to being happy again, ha ha. And nice french words there, I had to go look them up. You don't cry easy huh...well points for me then for making you do it. ha ha.

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**Chapter 50**

**Epilogue**

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Erik stood back and surveyed the house with pride. After working on it for over six months, it was finally complete and they were ready to move in. From the stunning veranda and the second story balconies to the indoor plumbing and piped in gas for the lights, kitchen and fireplaces…Erik had indeed built the home of the future. Just like his father had envisioned!

Erik and Christine had been married for almost five years now, and while they would forever enjoy sneaking down to his lair from time to time to get away from it all, it had become painfully clear that they needed a home above-ground as well. Though Erik still hated the idea of entertaining guests, he greatly preferred that to being forced to go to other people's homes for dinner parties. He of course never turned down an invitation at Anna and Charles' little house, one they had recently purchased, not far in fact from where he now stood. But each time the Daroga extended a request that they visit, Erik did his best to think of a dozen different reasons to decline. Not that it mattered, for Christine only had to give him a scolding look and he would concede to go, just as she wished.

Erik took out his pocket watch and checked the time. Christine should be arriving very soon, for they had much to do. It had been his wife's idea to invite their family and friends over to celebrate their first night in their new home…while Erik had a completely different idea on what would constitute a celebration to him. Something a bit more private and held upstairs in the master suite, perhaps? Yet Christine had insisted, and once again he had let her have her way, thus he was now stuck with no way out. Amir and Monique would be arriving around six, accompanied by their four year old son, Samuel Saeed, who was proudly named after both parents' fathers. The little boy was extremely active, precocious and resembled his father in looks and action more and more each day. Erik found it rather unnerving. Monique was currently pregnant with their second child, over which Amir was simply bursting with fatherly pride. It would seem that parenthood agreed with both of them and Sorelli had chosen to step down as prima ballerina – after temporarily resuming her position about six months after the birth of Samuel – now permanently passing on the title to Meg Giry.

Christine had invited Victor and Meg as well, the adorable couple having recently become engaged and very eager to attend any function where they might associate together without being under the ever watchful eye of Madame Giry. Anna and Charles would be attending as well, giving Erik at least one male guest with whom he could have a halfway decent conversation. Over the years Erik had been continually impressed with his father-in-law, the man's knowledge and love of music being something they both had bonded over rather quickly…well, that and their mutual love for Christine.

Ahh, his Christine. Even after five years of marriage she was still his perfect little angel! He was constantly amazed how his love for her continued to grow, reaching new heights each and every day. She had indeed become the most celebrated soprano in Paris - perhaps all of Europe - but each night as he cradled her in his arms, he only cared that she was his. His life had changed so much that he now had difficulty recalling a time _without_ her love. With the help of his flesh colored mask, which he continued to improve on with each new model, he was able to function very nicely within society…when he wished to do so.

His stint as the patron of the Opera Garnier, however, had proven to be short lived. It took Erik less than two seasons to realize that working with Debienne and Poligny would quickly drive him insane. Making him realize that if he did not do something soon he might revert to his past ways and go on a manager-killing spree. During the first few months of sponsoring the opera, Erik and Charles had many heated debates over the subject of the _Phantom._ For while the older man had originally insisted that Erik quit masquerading as the ghost, they quickly came to the conclusion that if the music loving specter suddenly disappeared, it might cast undue suspicion on the new patron. Especially when, even with his flesh like mask, Erik still bore a striking resemblance to the Opera Ghost in other ways. As a fixture in the opera's orchestra, Charles had heard quite a few whispers concerning that very subject, leading Monsieur Daae to amend his requirement that Erik give up his previous hauntings. After all, he reasoned, the money Erik would continue to extort was actually coming from his own pocket…so where was the harm?

Thus, the ghost continued to plague the Opera Garnier, pulling small pranks and sending demanding notes to not only the managers, but their new patron as well! Erik pretended to be highly offended by such demanding missives, but in the end, he willingly went along with what the _ghost_ suggested…after all, the Phantom was quite brilliant, or so Erik often stated. On the occasions when it was necessary for the Opera Ghost to make his presence known when he, the patron, was in plain sight, Erik enlisted the help of Victor, showing him how to maneuver the secret passages and cause a disturbance that would throw suspicion off himself. The plan worked marvelously, and soon only a scant few still believed that Erik and the ghost might be one in the same. Still, the nuisance with the managers continued, causing Erik to become quite fatigued over dealing with them on a daily basis.

So, as a gift to his darling wife on their second anniversary, Erik bought her an opera house! It had not taken much to convince both bumbling managers that retirement was greatly preferred to the headaches of dealing with a controlling ghost and a demanding patron, especially when Erik's offer had been more than generous, leaving the two men quite well to do.

Erik had thought about asking Amir to join him in the business, but the Persian was already far too busy being the front man for Erik's budding architectural venture. The Daroga would sit in the lavish office they rented on the Rue de Mere and sift through the many clients who came in on a daily basis, each hoping to get their next home or office designed by this amazing, yet mysterious, new architect known only as L'Artiste. The Persian seemed to thrive at his work, but he was only too happy to close up shop exactly at five and head home to his wife and child. As it turns out, Amir was quite the doting husband and father and never missed an opportunity to spend time with his little family.

So it happened that since Victor already knew more of the Opera Ghost's secrets than he probably should, Erik made him the assistant manager of the Opera Garnier, keeping the boy happily working for him and under his control. This seemed to aid Monsieur Batton's relationship with Meg considerably, for as soon as he was seen as a successful businessman, Giles Giry began to view him as a very desirable candidate for his daughter's hand in marriage… something Antoinette was also quite pleased about.

Yet, even though Erik would now technically be the one managing every aspect of the Opera Garnier, he greatly enjoyed telling Christine that _she_ was truly the one in charge, and that the theater was rightly hers to do with as she pleased. When he said such foolish things, Christine would simply roll her eyes, smile at him ever so sweetly and give him a loving kiss on his lips.

A few people might have been a bit shocked when Erik announced his intent to make himself the new owner and sole proprietor of the opera house, but with the money he had inherited from his father – thanks to Monsieur Collier's excellent care and wise investments – and now his second income as an architect, the purchase had been quite easy. Not long after being wed, Anna and Charles had accompanied Erik and Christine back to the town of his birth to meet with the kindly solicitor. Anna could tell that Erik had been nervous to do so, not because he feared meeting Jacques Collier for the first time, but simply the idea of going back _home_ had unnerved him greatly. Most of his memories of that town were cruel indeed and the last time he had set eyes on it was from inside a cage as the gypsy caravan carried him far away. Yet he had returned as a conquering hero, a man of considerable wealth and with a beautiful wife on his arm. Erik closed his eyes and thought back to that day, a small ache settling within his heart as he did so.

~XXX~

"Erik…are you sure you are all right?" Christine asked, probably for the tenth time since they had left Paris. She had been constantly watching him, eager to step in with a comforting touch or a gentle word if the need arose.

"Yes, my darling," Erik nodded, patting her hand that rested on his arm. "All that is left is memories, and they can no longer hurt me," he assured her with a rueful smile. "I am just anxious to meet this Monsieur Collier and find out why he insisted I make the journey here to see him. All of this could have easily been handled through correspondence, I am sure."

"He wishes to meet you, Erik," Anna scolded, having easily heard what he said from the other side of the carriage they all four rode in. "He was one of your father's best friends and he has spent a lifetime looking for you in order to fulfil Henri Trouville's final wish. You can't deny him the pleasure of your company."

"I highly doubt that he will find much pleasure in meeting me," Erik said with a harrumph, still unused to the idea that anyone, especially someone he had never met, would actually wish to make his acquaintance.

"Nonsense!" Christine scolded, leaning her head against his shoulder in a reassuring fashion. "I think you are just about the only one who still does not see what a marvelous fellow you are, Erik Trouville!"

"May I submit the Daroga as an example against your argument?" Erik asked in a humored voice.

"Well, I for one could not live without you!" Christine huffed, knowing that winning an argument with Erik was an endeavor she neither had the time or effort for right then.

"Just as I would not wish to live without you, my angel," Erik agreed, leaning in to kiss her on the top of her head.

"Must you two do that in front of me?" Charles asked with a roll of his eyes. He might have given his little girl away in marriage to this man, even willingly calling him son…but he would much prefer they kept their displays of affection confined to their private chambers. The whole idea of what might take place behind closed doors made him slightly ill.

"Charles," Anna scolded, giving him a playful slap. "They are in love and married, do not censure them so," she insisted, as she offered the two young lovers a reassuring smile.

Soon the carriage stopped and like it or not, it was time for Erik to meet Jacques Collier. The address they had been given was to a modest home in a quiet little neighborhood, with a small wrought iron fence surrounding the flower filled yard. The two couples made their way through the gate and up the path to the front porch, with Erik and Christine holding back, allowing Anna to blaze ahead. After all, she had been the one to correspond with the man through the years, having built up quite a rapport with him and his wife, Marie. Without any hesitation she reached up and pulled on the cord that caused the sound of bells to be heard within the house. It did not take long before the door was yanked open and a very excited looking man stood there, scanning the visitors with anxious eyes. When they landed on Anna, his smile grew even wider.

"Anna!" he cried, stepping forward and taking her hand in his, kissing the back of it gallantly. "You have not changed at bit, still as lovely as ever!" He then looked over at Charles, recognizing him from their one meeting so many years ago, and warmly shook his hand. "You too are looking well, Monsieur Daae. Good to see you again."

"We have all been looking forward to this visit, Jacques," Anna assured him, turning around and pulling Christine forward just a bit. "May I introduce my daughter, Christine. I fear she was not even born the last time we spoke in person."

"My, my…I can certainly tell she is your child, Anna," Monsieur Collier stated, also taking her hand and kissing it like he had with her mother. "She takes after you in beauty and poise."

"You best not let your wife hear you talking that way, Jacques," Anna laughed as she then stepped aside and signaled for Erik join the group. "And here is the very man you have long wished to meet…Erik Trouville."

When Erik stepped forward, the older man's mouth fell open and a small gasp escaped his lips. "My God…I can't believe it," he mumbled, his eyes scanning Erik from head to toe and back up again. "If I did not know any better I would swear my old friend Henri had been raised from the dead and was standing before me once again!" He then extended a quivering hand to Erik, pumping it up and down enthusiastically. "You have no idea how long I have searched for you, my boy. It is an honor and a privilege to meet you at last."

"It would seem that I am in your debt, Monsieur Collier," Erik offered stiffly, feeling uncomfortable being the subject of so much attention. "You have done me a great service by taking care of my inheritance over the years."

"Please, call me Jacques!" Collier insisted, stepping back as he ushered everyone inside. "I will not have any son of Henri Trouville stand on formalities. That goes for you as well, Christine, for after reading all the things your mother wrote about you in her letters over the years, I feel as if we are all family."

"And family is always welcome here," came a pleasant voice behind them. They all turned to see a plump little lady come out of the other room, drying her hands on a tea towel.

"Anna, Charles, you remember my wife, Marie?" he introduced. "And Marie, this is their daughter Christine and of course…Erik, Henri's son."

"A pleasure to meet you both," she greeted them warmly. "I hope you are all hungry, I have been cooking all morning and will not be satisfied until all the food is gone."

"Yes, please, come into the dining room," Jacques insisted, leading the way. "We have much to talk about, but first you must take your ease and eat or else Marie will be terribly offended."

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" Charles laughed, always happy to sample good cooking.

The lunch went well, with everyone talking and not a moment of awkward silence. Stories were told of how Jacques and Henri had met and many amusing tales of mischief and mayhem shared by the two friends, leaving the listeners doubled over in laughter. Erik, who had originally been nervous about this meeting, was suddenly the most talkative, asking question after question of the kindly lawyer. When there were only crumbs left on their plates and several bottles of wine almost exhausted, Jacques asked if he might speak with Erik alone in the parlor. Anna and Christine quickly offered to help Marie clear the table while Charles offered to remain there and finish off the last of the wine, allowing the two men to excuse themselves politely.

Once inside the parlor, Jacques shut the door and gestured for Erik to take a seat in one of the comfortable chairs by the fire. He then occupied the other one himself and picked up a small wooden box.

"Would you care for a cigar?" he asked, opening the lid on the humidor and offering Erik a smoke.

"No, thank you," Erik declined politely. "They are bad for the voice."

This caused Jacques to chuckle once again and shake his head, closing the lid on the box and setting it down unused. "You truly are your father's son, for he told me that very same thing at least a hundred times. Music was very important to Henri…music and architecture. I can't remember a time when I did not see him with either an instrument or a pen and paper in his hand, either sketching out a new idea for a building or transcribing his latest piece of music. And something tells me that you are not much different."

"My wife would call me a liar if I tried to say otherwise," Erik smiled, all too often having to be reminded by Christine to stop what he was working on and come eat dinner or go to bed. Sometimes he would argue about not being hungry, but never did he turn down her invitation to accompany her to their bed chambers. A man had to have priorities after all.

"Yet, as much as Henri loved to create, there was one thing he loved more," Collier continued, his tone growing serious. "And that, my boy, was you."

"Me?" Erik questioned skeptically. "He never knew me…how can you say such things?"

"When your moth…I mean, Suzette, passed on, the house your father had built and left to her reverted back to his estate. Thus it was my duty to clean out the house and sort through any possessions that remained and catalog them as your assets. I have to say I took a lot of ribbing from my fellow associates for continuing to steadfastly manage your account, always sure that you would be located one day. But since handling your money and stocks brought our firm quite a lot of revenue, no one ever pressured me to abandon the account." He paused there for a moment, as if trying to regain his train of thought. "Oh, right…the house! Anyway, as I was going through boxes and crates of things stored in the cellar I came across this." It was then that he leaned forward and pushed a fine leather bound book towards Erik. "It was the last of your father's journals, where he wrote down his most personal thoughts and feelings. There are dozens more, which I plan on turning over to you, but this one I think you will find the most interesting. Henri Trouville might never have laid eyes on you, Erik…or even knew if you were to be his son or daughter, but that did not mean he loved you any less. I think if you read the final pages of that book, you will understand why I can say such things with confidence." He then rose and walked over to where Erik sat, placing his hand on his shoulder in a fatherly manner. "Your father would have been very pleased with the man you have become, Erik. You have made a fine life for yourself and won the heart of an exceptional woman. Henri might not be here to say it himself… so I will do it for him. You have done well, boy, I am very proud of you." With that he exited the room and left Erik alone with the leather journal.

He stared at it for several minutes, working up the courage to open the book. If he had known of their existence when he was a child, he would have devoured every page, every word that his father had written. Yet now…as a grown man, he felt a twinge of fear as he let his fingers drift across the cover, opening it up and thumbing to the back. When he saw where the writing ended he turned back a page and began to read.

_February 23rd, 1848 – My life has changed today, and all for the better! I had suspected for a while now, but today it was confirmed. I am to become a father at last! I had prayed for this day for so long, at times never thinking it would come, yet after years of disappointment it has arrived. I took Suzette to Paris on the pretense of doing some shopping and while we were there I insisted that she keep the secret appointment I made for her with a highly respected physician. She was far from pleased, by both my subterfuge as well as the diagnosis, but I am thrilled. I now see my wife for what she is, and while I refuse to abandon my vows, I know she will never love me the way I once believed I loved her. Yet now…now with the promise of a child, perhaps there might still be hope for us. A baby could be the blessing we need to rebuild our shattered marriage…and if not, then at least I will have someone to shower with affection. I do not care if it is a boy or a girl, for I will love them regardless and show them all the happiness I can offer. Yet if I had a choice, I would like for it to be a son. Someone whom I might pass on my love for music and architecture, someone I could confide in and share that special father/son bond. Yet whatever I am blessed with, they will want for nothing and be given every opportunity for a happy future. Yes indeed…a child is all I ever wanted, and no matter what…they will know every day that they are loved by me._

Erik turned the page, hoping for a bit more…but that was the final entry, his father obviously having met his untimely end soon after this was written. Collier had been right…his father _had_ loved him. Even before he was born, Henri had anticipated the joy a son would bring and looked forward to the day of his birth. It pained Erik deeply to think he would never truly know the man in person, yet he would treasure these few words for the rest of his life.

Tears were welling up in his eyes, yet he knew that if he allowed them to fall they would become trapped beneath his rubber mask and cause the adhesive to give way, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen. So taking a few deep breaths he forced his heart to calm and regained control of his emotions. He then flipped back to the front of the book and began to read from the start, relishing each and every word his father…_the man who loved him_…had penned.

Erik was already several pages into the journal when he heard the door to the parlor open and then close very quietly. And even though she had not said a word, he knew it was Christine, coming to check on him, always worried over his state of mind.

"I am fine, my love," he assured her gently, reaching out his hand to her, even as his eyes never strayed from the book in his hand. "I was simply not ready to come out and face everyone…not just yet."

"Then I will sit with you, Erik," she announced, sliding into the oversized chair, snuggling up against him quite comfortably. "I don't like the idea of you being in here alone."

"Christine, I spent the better part of my thirty-one years quite alone…I think I can handle a half an hour more." He did his best to make light of it, but even he could hear the pain in his voice.

"You never have to be alone again, Erik Trouville," Christine reminded him, taking his left hand in hers and running her fingers over the ring he wore. "I mean you are allowed to be if you so choose, but as long as I am here to love you…you never _have_ to be alone again."

"I know, my angel," Erik smiled, kissing the top of her head. "And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for that." He then tipped the book so that she could easily see the words written inside. "This is one of my father's journals…one of many if Collier is to be believed…and through them I hope to gain a better understanding of my sire. So far I am quite impressed by his thoughts and inventions. I might have to incorporate some of his designs when I renovate the lair."

"Renovate? What for?" Christine asked, leaning up so that she could look him in the eye.

"For the baby of course," Erik chuckled, shutting the book and pulling her into his arms. "Reading this has given me a fresh desire to become a parent, Christine. I want to give my child all the things my father never got to share with me. My knowledge, my wealth and especially my love."

"Oh, Erik," Christine said between sniffles of happiness. "You are going to be such a wonderful father."

"Just like you will be a great mother," he agreed, shutting his eyes as a wave of contentment washed over him. "After all, you had the world's best teacher."

~XXX~

That had been the first of many visits to Jacques and Marie Collier's home, both for business and pleasure. Erik hired Jacques to become his personal solicitor, asking him to remain in charge of all his financial investments - reasoning that he had been doing it so well for the past two decades, so why mess with a good thing? Of course the elderly couple preferred to stay where they were, explaining that their children and grandchildren lived nearby and they would be hard pressed to move away from them. This was perfectly fine with Erik, for his hometown was hardly an hour's ride away by train, so meeting were easily scheduled and correspondence made simple.

Erik had not wished to visit the site of his old home though; both he and Anna were not sure they could handle seeing it again. For Anna it held far too many painful memories of losing a small eight year old boy so many years ago. While for Erik it was a different reason, one that only a lover of architecture could understand. For he did not dread returning to the home where he grew up isolated and neglected, instead he feared seeing the house his father had built in disrepair. Collier had told them that Suzette had let the place go, never bothering to spend a franc on repairs or upkeep, so that by the time the estate was turned over to him, the house had been condemned. Now it was only a suitable living place for rats and barn owls, every inch a dangerous place to tread. It was with a heavy heart and great hesitation that Erik signed the papers to have the place torn down, leveling off the property and placing it up for sale.

His only consolation was that among the other items found were the original plans his father had drawn up while building it, and it was those that would end up being the inspiration for the house of the future that stood before him now. He had taken all his sire's ideas and improved on them, making this towering mansion his crowning glory.

_I did it for you, Father. I think you would be proud._

Erik was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of a carriage heading up the drive and stopping at the end of the walk. Turning, he eagerly made his way towards it, watching as Christine stepped out…carrying their precious little daughter in her arms.

"Da!" the tiny girl, barely over a year old, squealed as she saw him coming forward, extending her pudgy little arms out as far as they would go in an effort to reach him. Christine gave a slight huff and waited for Erik to collect her.

"It is a good thing that I am already a famous opera singer, adored by all of Paris, otherwise I would be rather hurt that my own daughter prefers you over me, my husband," she sulked, a warm smile softening her plaintive words.

"Nonsense," Erik argued, looking from Christine to the little girl in his arms. "You love your mama just as much as your daddy, don't you, Julianna?" Erik asked, enjoying the sensation as she snuggled in close to him with a childish giggle.

"Da!" she repeated, her limited vocabulary preventing her from expressing herself more fully.

"See, she wants you!" Christine insisted, turning back from having just directed the carriage driver to take their cases and packages inside the house. "Then again, how can I blame her…I am rather fond of you myself." She then rose up on her toes and placed a kiss on Erik's masked cheek.

Erik knew he would never get tired of hearing that, or the knowledge that he now had _two_ beautiful women who loved him unconditionally. It had been a long time coming however, and after several years of married life with no sign of life within Christine's womb, they had begun to wonder if they would _ever_ be blessed with a child. And for a man who had originally conspired to deny his wife this joy, due to his fear of passing on his disfigurement, it amazed even Erik that suddenly he had become the driving force behind the intent that they _should_ have one.

Christine had originally wished to pursue her career before they tried in earnest, but as more time passed without his seed taking hold, Erik became increasingly concerned. Originally his fear had centered on his deformity, but soon he began to worry that whatever Suzette had taken to rid herself of his unwanted form, might have also damaged him in other ways. What if he was incapable of fathering children? What if he was destined to disappoint his angel after all? He could tell that Christine had worries of her own about their situation, and that she did all she could to hide them from him, but Erik was no fool and his ever watchful eye caught the looks of pain and worry that crossed her face whenever the subject of babies came up.

Erik would never in a million years ask Christine to see a physician over the issue or allow her to be subjected to any humiliating exams, as Anna's ex-husband had once done to her. Yet as much as he longed to know if they were at all capable of having a child, Erik could not bring himself to be put under the curious eye of a doctor either. For should they begin to question the scars on his body, or heaven forbid, _his face_…he might be tempted to do the man serious harm. And where would that get them?

So they worried and waited, hoping against hope that one day soon their dreams would become a reality. That wasn't to say that their lives had not been filled with countless joys and happiness, for how could it be otherwise with the great amount of love they shared for each other? Erik and Christine had a wonderful family, good friends and employment that kept them both busy and challenged. Erik, in fact, had begun composing full scale operas and since he was now the sole proprietor of the Garnier…who was there to object when he decided to have them performed? Each one was a consummate success, all of Paris flocking to the theater to see the latest Trouville production. Suddenly, Christine was not the only one who brought fame and notoriety to their name, and everyone in town was eager to put both of them on their guest lists for parties and functions. Yet the Trouville duo held to a politely reclusive lifestyle, preferring to stay at home with each other, than to bandy themselves about town as spectacles.

Still, their desire for a family of their own persisted, yet even after three long years no sign of hope had come. Or at least that is what Erik had believed. Once more he allowed his mind to wander back to that happy day…the day his life changed once more.

~XXX~

Erik was just leaving the opera house, yet instead of heading down below, he was to accompany his father-in-law home, having been invited for dinner that night. Christine had taken the day off to spend time with her mother, citing some shopping excursion for her unexpected absence at practice that day. As the owner, Erik might have balked, insisting that his diva not shirk her responsibilities…yet as her husband, he was helpless to argue, especially when the reason involved Anna. How could he possibly fight against the two of them? He was helpless.

"So what is the occasion?" Erik inquired as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Charles and Anna's modest little home.

"I thought perhaps you knew," his father-in-law said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Yet do our women ever need a reason to wish to get us all together? Anna has been complaining that I spend far too much time practicing at night as it is and probably wishes for some stimulating dinner conversation for a change."

"You should not ignore your wife, Charles," Erik admonished, not liking the idea that Anna might feel lonely or left out in any way. "You found a rare and precious woman in Anna, never take that for granted."

"I would never dream of it," he assured him, before a silly grin crossed his lips. "However, as exacting as my boss is, if I do not keep these old fingers limber and in good practice for playing the violin, I could easily find myself out of a job and on the street."

Erik raised a non-visible eyebrow and gave his companion an exasperated stare.

"That you might, for I will not accept anything but the best from my orchestra." Erik paused there and gave a small laugh. "Yet never doubt the security of your position, for I am quite certain that the _true owner_ of the Opera Garnier would never allow such a thing," he informed him, both men keenly aware that he was referring to Christine.

"Good to know," Charles replied with a chuckle, turning the key in the lock as he let them inside.

The two men continued their pleasant conversation as they sat in the parlor, enjoying a drink and discussing the day's events. At half past five they heard the distinct sound of their women arriving home and they both rose to greet them as they swept in the room.

"Did you have a lovely day, my dear?" Erik asked, setting his drink down and pulling her into his arms. It still amazed him that even being parted for a few hours left him longing for her presence like a starving man.

"Oh, yes, we had a lovely time," Christine replied, her smile leaving her face positively glowing. She then leaned in and kissed her father's cheek in greeting as well before turning back to where she and Anna had set the pile of boxes they had brought in. "Sit down and I will show you what I bought!"

Erik eyed Charles skeptically, not sure if sharing her purchases in front of her father was a good idea. Anna had always been more than supportive of their... _marital relationship_…yet Christine's father continued to do his best to remain blissfully ignorant of said things. So as Erik returned to a reclining position on the settee, he truly hoped that if Christine had purchased any intimate apparel, she would keep those for his eyes only. Yet when she pulled out a powder-blue dress that would modestly cover every inch of her tantalizing flesh, he breathed a sigh of relief. That is until he got a better look at it that is, for as she held it up in front of her, Erik's eyes took on a puzzled expression.

"I am no expert in fashion," he began, rubbing his exposed chin thoughtfully as he continued to eye the gown. "But do you not think that dress to be a bit…well…large for you, my dearest?"

"Really?" Christine questioned, sounding convincingly shocked as she held it away from her and gave it a thorough examination. "I suppose it might be a bit on the large side at that…how silly of me to have chosen something too large." Tossing it over the back of a nearby chair, she grabbed for yet another package and rummaged through it, looking for something else. "Well then, how about this little item? Do you think this might be the correct size?" And pulling out what appeared to be a very small piece of cloth she handed it to Erik for his critical inspection.

At first Erik believed it to be a scarf and prepared himself to give his approval as he began to unfold it. Yet when he did, and the shape of the garment was revealed he was stunned. Instead of some woman's accessory…it was a night dress for a small infant! A tiny little outfit to be worn by…_a baby?_ Erik sat there, staring at the garment for a few moments, his mouth open and his mind spinning like a top. Could it be? Was it possible?

"Christine…what…what is the meaning of this?" he stammered out at last, prying his eyes from the little night dress and looking up at his wife, now completely oblivious of the other two people in the room.

"What do you think it means, Erik?" she questioned back, the wide grin on her face the only answer he truly needed.

"A baby? You…we…we are going to have a baby?" As he spoke Erik slowly rose in one fluid motion, eager to engulf her in an exuberant embrace. "How…when…?"

"I had an appointment today with the same doctor who delivered Samuel for Monique and Amir. He confirmed what I had been suspecting for the past week or so," she informed him. "I am with child, Erik. I am going to have your baby!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he questioned, taking a step closer and taking her in his arms. "You had believed you were pregnant for a week now and you never said a word?"

"I was afraid to get your hopes up for fear I might be wrong," she explained, sounding both apologetic and sad. "I know how much you want a child…how much we both have desired to have one, and I just did not wish to disappoint you if it were not true."

"You should never concern yourself with such fears, my love!" Erik kindly scolded, stroking her hair as he placed a kiss on the top of her head. "It is I who should shelter you from worry and concern, not the other way around." He then pulled her back so that he could look down into her slightly misty eyes. "Yet you say the doctor confirmed it? You are indeed carrying our babe?" To this she nodded vigorously, her smile quickly returning. "And you are well, there is no danger to you?"

"She is perfectly healthy," Anna laughed, breaking into the conversation and once more alerting Erik to the fact that they were not alone in the room. "So you need not fret or lose any sleep over it, Erik. Save that for when the child is born and you two will be up at all hours of the night taking care of it."

"Oh, yes," Charles added, rolling his eyes in remembrance. "Christine might have been a very beautiful baby, but I seriously think she didn't learn to sleep a full hour until she was a year old! I was not sure Anna and I got a decent night's sleep between the two of us until after she cut her first tooth!"

"Oh, Father!" Christine scolded, laughing merrily as she extracted herself from Erik's embrace and went to his now open arms. "I will never be able to repay all the love and care you and mother showed to me growing up. I can only hope that I do half as good a job of being a parent as you two."

"I have no doubt you will, my precious one," Charles assured her, kissing her cheek as his own eyes filled with tears. "Yet I fear I am a bit overwhelmed, after all, my baby is going to have a baby."

"And how do you think I feel?" Anna chimed in, now making her way to Erik and wrapping him in her own warm hug. "For in my heart, _both _my children are giving me a grandchild…and I couldn't be happier!"

By now everyone in the room was tearing up, yet no one of them could wipe the smiles off their faces.

"Da!" little Julianna said once more, patting Erik's mask and bringing him out of his past thoughts. "Da, no!"

"You know she does not like it when you cover your face with a mask," Christine explained, doing her best to translate her daughter's thoughts into words. "It confuses her when you wear them, and like me, she prefers to see the real you."

"A fact I am still quite amazed by…from you both," Erik said, shaking his head in awe. He still wore his rubber mask when meeting new people or dealing with the public in general, but after he had fully taken over the opera house and allowed the mysterious Phantom that haunted it to slowly fade away, he began to wear his more comfortable white one for everyday use. Of course he got a few odd looks at first, but soon it was a natural sight around the theater and no one batted an eye. However, even before their daughter had been born, they had decided it was best to allow their child to see his face. That way it would not grow up with any fear or confusion about what his or her father truly looked like. And while he was very nervous about it, Erik agreed, praying he would not be the reason for his child's first cries of fear.

It had been a relatively easy birth, according to Anna, but several times during the many hours it took for his daughter to arrive, Erik thought for sure_ he_ was going to die. He was also very unsure if the doctor would live through the experience as well, for more than once both Amir and Charles had to hold Erik back from bursting into the room and strangling the man each time Christine would cry out in pain. Yet in the end, everyone came through unscathed, and Erik and Christine were blessed with their precious little girl. Erik enjoyed joking with the infant, telling her just how much trouble and fuss she had caused them all, but that it had been worth every moment just to hold her. Christine had been worried that Erik might have secretly wished for a son, no matter how many times he had stated that he did not care either way, just as long as it was healthy. But all concerns were put to rest when she saw the look of pure joy the moment their daughter was placed in his arms. No father on earth could have loved his child more than Erik did his new little girl.

Deciding on a name had been difficult for them, since even before her birth they had never set their heart on any one choice. Yet the moment Erik laid eyes on his little daughter, no name they had already listed seemed remotely good enough. During her first hour of life, Erik had taken to referring to her as his little Jewel, cradling her in his arms as he paced back and forth, softly singing Anna's lullaby to the sleeping child. Thus, Christine suggested calling her Julianna, a combination of that endearing title and her mother's name. Erik instantly loved the idea and when he whispered the name to his sleeping angel, she opened her eyes and stared at him with such a serene expression, that she successfully captured his heart for all time.

Just as Christine had long ago wished, their little Julianna had inherited her grandmother's blond hair and her grandfather's warm smile. Yet once the typical baby blue had faded from her eyes, it was Erik's striking golden color that took up permanent residence, causing their little darling to receive massive amounts of attention over her stunningly exotic look. Erik quickly became aware that his precious jewel was destined to take after her mother in beauty and grace, and he could only imagine the hell he was in for once she came of age! As her father he would have to fend off every unworthy male in Paris who came asking for her hand in marriage. Erik suddenly developed a new form of respect for Charles, due to all the torment he must have gone through when faced with the same situation. How had the man managed it…_and survived?_

Julianna never seemed overly concerned about anything, and was the most pleasant of babies, never fussing needlessly and always ready with a toothless grin. This often left Charles glaring daggers at Erik as he went on and on about how easy she was to put down for the evening and how she began sleeping through the night at a very early age. Anna was only too happy to help out with child care when Christine eventually returned to the stage, after taking off almost a year to care for Julianna. Erik was both elated and saddened on her first day back, obviously happy to have his star diva once more, but when he saw the faraway look in her eyes and noted how she was barely able to concentrate, he knew she was pining for her daughter. Thus it was decided that Anna would take care of her granddaughter in one of the dressing rooms Erik quickly renovated into a nursery, so that both parents, and her grandfather, could stop in at any time to check on the adorable little girl. This solution pleased everyone, including the staff at the opera house, who all fell in love with the child on sight, and Julianna became an enjoyable fixture at the Garnier.

"I put the bags in the hallway, Madam," the carriage driver said, coming back down the pathway. "And the other boxes I placed in the kitchen, waiting to be taken care of at your leisure. Is there anything else I can do?" he asked, looking from Christine to Erik respectively.

"No, thank you, George," Christine smiled, always appreciative of the kindness shown by their hired driver. Erik had enlisted only three servants for their new home above ground – a carriage driver to escort Christine and Julianna wherever they needed to go when Erik was not available to chauffeur them himself; a young girl to come in and clean the house three times a week and a kindly old woman who took care of meal preparation when the lady of the house was feeling too busy to do so herself. At first Christine had balked over the idea of someone doing such things, considering them her wifely duties and hated the idea of not being able to do them herself. Yet, it was Erik who insisted that he did not want his bride to be overtaxed with a child and a career to manage, as well as her other _duties_ that took place in the bedroom. While Erik was never demanding or insensitive to her moods or occasional condition, the two of them still enjoyed a very heated love life, only too happy when Anna and Charles wished to take Julianna home with them for the night, thus giving Erik and Christine a night of uninterrupted bliss.

"Very good, Madam," George responded with a respectful bow. "I will take care of the horses and see that they are bedded down for the night. Just let me know if you need my services any further." With that he led the team around the side of the house and out back to where the stables were kept, with a small apartment for his use tucked right behind.

"We had best get inside," Erik spoke up, shifting his daughter in his arms so that he could extract his pocket watch and check the time. "Our guest will be arriving soon and since you insisted on cooking dinner yourself and not enlisting the aid of Madam Duprix, I think we had better get started."

Christine heartily agreed, and while Erik took the bags filled with their last minute essentials from the lair to their rooms, Christine began to organize the newly finished kitchen. It was a marvel to be sure, yet even as she bustled around, impressed by every shiny new surface or pot and pan, she still missed the small cozy kitchen she had left behind. She knew it would not take long before the new house felt like home, yet she also realized the memories they shared in the underground lair would last a lifetime.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" came a voice from the foyer, the unmistakable call originating from Amir as he let himself in.

"In the kitchen," Christine called back, unwilling to stop her work in order to go out and greet them. She knew for a fact that Erik undoubtedly heard them arrive, but knowing him, he purposefully stayed upstairs just long enough to avoid having to greet his Persian friend. Even after years of associating with each other, the two men continued to maintain their odd relationship of love and hate. It often left both she and Monique in stitches when they would spend hours arguing over the silliest of things, only to end up sharing a bottle of wine or a snifter of brandy as if nothing unpleasant had transpired between them at all.

"Ahh, there you are, Christine," Amir greeted as the family of three made their way into the warm little kitchen. "And looking just as lovely wrapped in domestic bliss as you do taking your much deserved bows on stage."

"Careful, Amir, your wife will take offense to you showing me so much attention," she laughed, watching as Amir kindly escorted his wife, now quite heavy with their second child, over to one of the comfortable chairs by the preparation table.

"Oh, no, Christine," Monique argued. "I don't mind at all, in fact I would appreciate it very much if he would shower some of his attention on you and give me a few moments of peace." This caused the Daroga to give his wife a plaintive look, one that she quickly eased with a warm and loving smile.

"You might feel that way, Madam," Erik broke in, stepping into the room in time to hear Monique's request. "However, if he knows what is good for him, he will confine his attentions to his own loved ones and leave mine alone."

"Always good to see you as well, Erik," Amir greeted, his friend's surly nature not affecting him one bit.

"Baby!" little Samuel cried, leaving his mother's side and rushing towards Erik with a squeal of delight. When he reached him, the little boy began pulling on the tall man's pant leg, begging to either be picked up or for Julianna to be put down. "I wanna hold the baby! Please?"

"You are far too little to hold her, young man," Erik argued, clutching his precious daughter all the tighter, even as she began to squirm in his arms, also wishing to be let down.

"No! I am a big boy!" the miniature version of Amir insisted, stamping his foot at Erik's insulting words. "I know how to be soft…I can hold her nice."

"Oh, Erik, let him hold Julianna," Christine insisted, rolling her eyes as Erik continued to stare down at the child through narrowed slits. The little boy had been fascinated with their daughter from the moment he had first met her, always standing by her cradle or gently playing with her on a blanket on the floor. Christine knew that Erik only objected to little Samuel's attention because of Amir's once scandalous reputation with women, somehow seeing the innocent four year old as some kind of future womanizer. "Come over here by the counter and sit on the floor, Samuel, and Erik will let you hold her there."

At her words, the boy scurried to where she pointed and sat down, his little legs crossed before him and his arms now outstretched, eager for the pretty little girl to be placed in his arms. With a heavy sigh, Erik complied with his wife's commands, bending down as he reluctantly relinquished custody of his daughter to the eager hands of the diminutive Persian. Yet before he returned to a standing position he leaned in and whispered into the boy's ear.

"Don't think I will always pass my little angel into your hands, young man," he warned. "You will have to prove your worth a hundred times over if you ever wish to claim her for good." And while Erik had hoped for more, the boy only looked up at him and smiled, completely oblivious to the importance those words held, simply happy to have little Julianna in his arms.

With a huff of defeat, Erik stood up and watched his daughter begin to laugh and smile as the boy began to dote upon her. The hand that fell on his shoulder and the words Amir spoke next did little to improve his mood.

"Don't they make a stunning couple, Erik?" the Daroga asked, completely oblivious to how those words alone could have led to his instant death. Yet Erik would never dream of forcing Monique to raise two children alone, so he let the Persian live…again.

"Don't who make a stunning couple?" Charles asked, walking in the room just then, followed by Anna, Victor and Meg.

"Samuel and Julianna," Amir boasted, turning to greet the newly arrived couples, quickly reaching out to take the bowl of food Anna carried in her hands. "Let me take care of that for you, Madam," he offered, ever the gallant gentleman.

"Now, now…" Charles warned, eyeing the little boy on the floor as he played with his granddaughter. "I am not quite sure Erik and I are ready for anyone to begin playing matchmaker with our Julianna. Speaking as a father who had to give away a daughter myself, I think it best we not even consider such things for a long, long time."

"Wiser words were never spoken," Erik agreed, giving a nod of gratitude to his father-in-law, while he shot Amir a scathing look, one that would have melted glass. "And you would do well to remember that, if you know what is good for you, Daroga."

"Oh, please," Amir laughed, still not the least bit affected by Erik's threats. "We are all married couples here," he then glanced over at Victor and Meg, and added, "or at least _almost_ married." This caused the young ballerina to blush slightly, lowering her head as she clung to her fiancé's hand. "And I can think of a lot worse things than for all our families to be united in one way or another. In my estimation, my Samuel could not find a better bride than little Julianna or a better family to marry into!"

"You are all being ridiculous," Anna broke in, shaking her head at the men's antics. "The way you three carry on you would think you alone birthed these children." She looked over and smiled at the little boy and girl who were playing so nicely on the floor, completely oblivious to the fact that they were the center of the adults' conversation. Anna then looked over at Meg, who was still a bit red from Amir's comment. "Take note of this, Meg. We are certain that it is some strange male deficiency that causes our men to take full credit for the production of their offspring, as if we women had no hand in it at all. It is one that you too will be faced with down the road, I am sure." This time it was Victor who turned red at the older woman's words.

"Either way, I believe that if Erik had simply had a son, like me, he would not be in such a snit or as insanely overprotective about his child," Amir countered, acting as if what he said made perfect sense.

"Daroga…" Erik began, his voice taking on a threatening tone as he took a menacing step closer to the Persian.

"Erik, may I see you in the parlor for a moment?" Christine intervened, seeing the murderous look in his eye and trying to avoid the chances of this night's celebration turning into a tragedy. When he seemed to hesitate, she added, "Now…Erik!"

With a deep growl emanating from his throat, he turned and left the room, further irritated by the fact that the smile never left Amir's lips. Christine turned the cooking duties over to her more than capable mother and Meg, then followed Erik out the door. She found her husband standing by the fireplace, his amber eyes reflecting the glow of the dancing flames.

"Erik, you know that Amir only says these things to tease you," she told him with a bit of a laugh. "You should not let him get to you."

"Yet whenever I see that little boy begging for my daughter, I can't help but think of the day when some boy comes asking in earnest!" Erik lamented, turning around so that Christine could see the genuine fear in his eyes.

"She is my daughter too, Erik, even if she prefers you over me," she added the last part in hopes of softening the blow. "And I will be right beside you to help you through it the first time a young gentleman comes to call upon her. Yet that is still a good many years in the future so don't you think it best to not let it ruin our happiness now by dwelling on it?" She sidled up beside him and took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, Julianna could do a lot worse than falling in love with a nice boy like Samuel. Do you see how kind and patient he is with her? He is a gentleman in the making, for sure."

Erik released another heavy sigh and gave a nod before he pulled her into his arms.

"You are right…as always," he relented. "I just hope that Amir's next child is a girl and then he will get a healthy dose of his own medicine. And when it comes time for him to ward off any suitors, you can bet that I will not feel an ounce of pity for him. In fact I may just come over to watch and laugh!"

"Erik…now you are just being vindictive," Christine scolded.

"Well, he deserves it!" Erik huffed. "Why does that pesky Persian egg me on so?"

"Why do you rise to the occasion?" she chuckled, enjoying the feel of his body so near. She suddenly wondered if having guests over for dinner on their first night in their new home had been a good idea after all, now feeling the undeniable urge to have Erik all to herself. They stayed like that for some time, both lost in thought until a heavy sigh from Erik alerted Christine to the fact that something was still eating at him. Pulling from his embrace, she leaned back and stared up at him questioningly. "There is more to this than the Daroga's teasing…isn't there? What is truly bothering you, my husband?"

It took Erik a few more moments and another heavy sigh before he decided to speak.

"Do you recall that game we used to play, back when you first arrived at my home?" he began, obviously nervous about what he was to say next.

"Game?" At first Christine did not know what he meant, but then realization quickly dawned on her. "Oh, where we would ask each other questions and we were obligated to answer truthfully?"

"Yes…that one," Erik agreed, now holding her at arm's length, staring down into her eyes with a touch of uncertainty. "Well…if I recall, I still have one question left. The first one you tricked me out of, you sly little vixen, and the second one I used when I asked you to be my wife."

"Yes, I remember," she laughed, recalling how upset he had been by the loss of the first and how happy he had been with the response for the second.

"I…I would like to use my third and final question now," he announced.

"My, this sounds serious," Christine teased, not terribly worried, yet she couldn't help but feel a miniscule amount of trepidation over the tone of his voice. "Ask away, husband. I will abide by the rules of the game and answer with complete honesty."

"Well, I know you just recently returned to the stage, and I am overjoyed to have you back where you belong. I am also deliriously happy with our daughter and could not imagine our lives without her in it, but…" he stopped there and took a deep breath.

"But?" Christine prompted, her brows now furrowed with curiosity.

"But…Amir's comment about me having a son hit a little closer to home than he realized," Erik continued, now stepping away and turning his back on her. "You see…I…I have met this little boy. I have only spoken to him a few times, but I have asked about him as well and found out a great deal." He stopped there and ran his fingers nervously through his hair, risking a side glance at Christine in hopes of ascertaining her reaction.

"A little boy? Where did you meet this child…and why were you asking after him?" Christine questioned, mentally preparing herself for wherever this conversation might lead.

"At an orphanage. I would walk past it on my way to the new building I designed last month and I would see him out in the yard as I went by." Erik was still unwilling to make eye contact and hurried on with his explanation as if he were afraid she might put an end to all this before his question could be asked. "He…he is like me, Christine! Or at least how I used to be…sad and alone. He has a facial deformity, not as extensive as mine, for it only covers a quarter of his face, from his right cheek to just above his eyebrow. But it causes the other children to tease and shun him, leaving him always sitting by himself. One day I could not stand it any longer and I went inside and talked with him, Christine, and you would be amazed at the boy's intellect and imagination! The way he spoke to me you would never believe his is only four years old. When I went inside and searched out the the proprietress, she told me all about him; his history, how he had been left on their doorstep as an infant and how even at such a young age they have already given up hope of anyone ever wanting to adopt him."

"Erik," Christine began, walking over to him and turning him so that he was now looking directly at her. "What is it you wish to ask me? I am listening…tell me what is on your mind and in your heart."

"I _want_ him, Christine!" Erik all but begged. "I can't explain it, and I don't expect you to understand either, but I can't stop thinking about him…his eyes, his sad little frown, his look of utter rejection. I want to adopt him, Christine, to bring him into our family and show him the kind of love that your mother once showed me! I want to prove to him that this world is not so horrible, that there _are _good people out there who can and will accept him." He then took hold of her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. "I am asking if you would please consider doing this for me. Would you consent to being a mother to not only our precious Julianna, but also to a lost little boy who needs you…who needs us both?" He then released a deep breath, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. "There, I have asked my question and you are only obligated to answer truthfully. You are not required to acquiesce if it is not something you wish to do."

"Oh, Erik…how could you think I wouldn't say yes?" Christine gasped, tears springing to her eyes at the heartfelt expressions her husband had just made. "If you feel so strongly about this little boy and his plight, then of course I would want him just as much. I would gladly agree and you should know that!"

"I…I had hoped, my dearest, but we had not spoken about adoption since before we found out we could have children of our own…and I did not wish to presume," Erik explained, taking her into his arms once more and hugging her tightly. "You have already done so much for me…become my wife, gave me love, a home and a beautiful daughter I love more than I ever thought possible. I did not wish to burden you further with taking on a child who is not your own."

"Erik…deep down, who is Anna Daae to you?" she asked out of the blue.

"She…she is my mother," he responded truthfully. "I know she did not birth me, but in my heart I could not love her any more even if she had."

"And does the fact that you do not share any blood ties diminish that love you have for her?" she continued.

"No," he answered, an understanding smile crossing his lips as he now understood where his wife was going with this.

"Then why do you think I would not be able to love this little boy simply because he was not my flesh and blood?" At this she tipped her head a bit and cocked one eyebrow, giving him a look of exasperation. "Why have you not spoken to me about this before, Erik? It is apparently something you have given a lot of thought to and has been weighing on your mind for some time."

"I…I do not know," he admitted, leaning in and kissing her on the forehead. "But no more! I want you to come with me and meet him. See for yourself what an extraordinary boy he is…I know you will fall in love with him the moment you speak with him. And if it is all right with you, and of course with Daniel…for that is his name…I would like to invite him to come live with us. I really think he would like that and I know I would." Erik then got a rather triumphant gleam in his eye. "And it would certainly shut that persnickety Persian up about how me having a son would settle my nerves!"

"Well, if besting Amir is your main reason for doing this, then by all means, let's adopt the boy!" Christine laughed, playfully swatting Erik on the chest.

"Are you sure this won't be too much for you to handle?" Erik questioned seriously, ignoring his wife's jest. "You are already so busy with your singing and taking care of Julianna, not to mention me. And I know we have spoken about trying to have more children of our own…but would adding a four year old into the mix overtax you, my angel?"

Erik seemed so very concerned over this that Christine did the only thing she could think of to ease his mind. Throwing her arms around his neck and startling him with the fervor of her reaction, she silenced his concerns with her next words.

"I can think of nothing better in this world than to have _a dozen _children with you, my husband, adopted or made directly from our love!" When Erik's eyes grew wide with a touch of fear, she quickly amended her words. "Or at least _two_ more, since you always knew I always wanted a total of four. And while I enjoy singing and performing on stage, I have never felt more fulfilled than when I am simply being a mother to Julianna and a wife to you. It would never be too much for me, Erik…far from it. Besides, it is not like I would be doing all the work, _you_ will be right there beside me the whole time. Just like you have always been."

"Honestly then, you would agree to this?" Erik asked, giving a sigh of pure relief. "I was so worried that by asking, you might feel as though I was pulling you away from the stage…from your true calling."

"_You_ are my true calling! Being your wife and a mother is all I want from here on out and I would happily give up everything for that, Erik, and never regret it for a moment." She then gave him one of those smiles that set his heart aflame. "When do you wish to go see about adopting this Daniel, Monsieur Trouville?"

"I could easily get rid of everyone right now and we could leave immediately," he offered, not joking in the slightest.

"Erik, that would be extremely rude!" she laughed. "However, we could ask my mother and father to take the baby home with them tonight, leaving us free to go first thing in the morning." She then got a very devilish look in her eyes as she pressed her body closer to his. "And perhaps tonight we might try to _make_ another child of our own? Maybe a little boy this time, who will have a sister…and an_ older brother _to look up to?"

"Oh, Christine," Erik moaned, wanting nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to their master suite and christen their new bed…multiple times. "I have no earthly idea how I was ever so fortunate to have found a woman with such a loving heart…let alone convinced you to be my wife. Till my dying day I will never understand why, or fully believe, that you said yes."

"Well, my darling," Christine purred, reaching up and gently removing his mask, revealing the face she had come to adore with all her heart. "They do say that _seeing is believing_." And to prove her words of endearment were true, she rose up and kissed his smiling lips, showing him once again just how much he was…and would always be...loved.

**~THE END~**

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**Well, there you have it folks. So, what did you think of:**

**Their house of the future? **

**Erik becoming the owner of the Opera House? **

**Erik and Amir going into business doing architecture?**

**Victor working at the Opera house and getting engaged to Meg?**

**His meeting with M. Collier and the letter from his dad?**

**Their daughter and the way Christine told him she was pregnant?**

**The way Amir teases Erik about Samuel and Julianna being such a cute couple?**

**Erik wanting to adopt little Daniel?**

**The way he used his last question to find out if Christine would agree to the adoption?**

**The very end...and did you notice the way I snuck in the title of the story again?**

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**Thank you all for such a fun ride! I enjoyed sharing my story with you and loved reading all your wonderful reviews! I hope to see you all again when I get my new idea out of my head and on to my NEW computer (which arrived and is lovely!) It will be a modern day one...something I have never tried before, so it will be fun to see Erik with a cell phone and a sporty car! Christine will be there, and Amir, M. Giry, Meg and Charles Daae! And yes...Raoul will be front and center in this one. Sorry. I do hope you come check it out when it is done. **

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**If you wish to purchase this on Kindle, it is up and ready with all the changes and corrections I made. It will soon be up for sale in book form on Amazon as well.  
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**Thanks once more and until next time...happy reading and writing!**

**FantomPhan33**


	51. Appendices 1 Daniel Trouville

**This chapter serves two purposes. **

**One: to let you all know more about little Daniel and how he joins the Trouville family. (Yes, yes, I just couldn't help myself...I can't seem to let this story go! That and you all begged so nicely for me to write more about the little boy.)  
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**Two: at the end of the chapter you will find my responses to ALL my wonderful Guest Reviews! **

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**Seeing Is Believing**

**Appendices #1**

**Daniel Trouville**

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The following morning Erik and Christine climbed into a carriage and headed off to the orphanage, both of them eager to meet with the little boy. They had decided not to mention any of this to Anna and Charles, and had asked them to take Julianna home with them the previous night solely under the guise of them wishing to spend some time alone. Neither one felt even a twinge of guilt over this ruse, for in truth they did wish for some private time and made good use of the evening all to themselves. Their new house had officially been christened…multiple times.

As the cab pulled up in front of the large brick building, Christine could tell that Erik was nervous, even though it was difficult to read his expressions behind his rubber mask. He hardly wore the realistic mask any more, preferring his more comfortable ones for daily use, yet when he was forced to go out in public or meet new people for the first time, it was always the one he would choose. No one would argue that Erik was a well-respected man in society now, but old habits die hard and Christine could not fault him for wearing it today. Reaching out she took his hand, forcing him to meet her eyes as she gave it an encouraging squeeze.

"Don't worry so, Erik," she instructed, her voice both soothing and full of assurance. "I am sure I will love him, just as you said."

"Oh, I do not doubt that," he quickly insisted. "He is an extraordinary boy and I am certain you two will get along famously. What is of concern, is whether he will like me! What if we ask him to come live with us…and he says no? Just because _we_ might wish to adopt him, does not mean that he in turn will want us to."

"Erik," Christine was forced to shake her head in disbelief. After all these years her husband still harbored so many doubts about himself. Would he ever be able to feel secure in his new life? "Any child would love having you as a father. Julianna adores you and little Samuel begs to stay with us every chance he gets."

"He begs to come visit with _our daughter,_ and you know it," Erik huffed. "If Julianna were not present, I think Samuel would find no reason what so ever to even step inside our home." He then got a humorous look in his eye as he added, "I only wish the Daroga would come to the same conclusion."

"Erik, stop," Christine laughed, squeezing his arm. "You and Amir have a closer relationship than most brothers, yet you two choose to show it in the oddest fashion. One would think you spend all your time at each other's throats when it is the farthest thing from the truth."

"It works for us," Erik stated matter of factly, effectively closing the conversation. He then reached out and opened the door to the cab. "Shall we go?"

"We shall," Christine nodded, still unable to stop her giggling. Even if she lived to be one hundred, she would never understand Erik and Amir's odd relationship.

Once inside, Erik quickly located the proprietress in charge, Madame Leffere, yet was forced to wait patiently while the elderly woman dispensed a few orders and signed for a delivery. When she was at last able to approach the waiting couple, her face broke out in a wide smile.

"Ah, Monsieur Trouville, how nice to see you again," she warmly greeted them. "Might I hope that you and your lovely wife are here to inquire about adopting a child?"

"It just so happens, that is exactly why we are here, Madame Leffere," Erik nodded, pleased that at least _she_ seemed agreeable to the idea. He then turned to Christine, bringing her forward as he presented her to the woman. "May I introduce my wife, Christine."

"Introductions are hardly necessary," Madame Leffere insisted, guiding them to her office and offering them each a chair. "I am a big fan of the opera and am privileged to have seen all your performances to date, Madame Trouville. Believe me when I say that having you both here in my office is a great pleasure indeed, for I have been astounded by both your singing, Madame, as well as the music you have written for your wife, Monsieur."

"Thank you very much for saying so, Madame Leffere," Christine replied, a blush of modesty coloring her cheeks. Even after five years of hearing people sing her praises, it still caused some embarrassment.

"Please, I insist that you call me Charlotte," the older woman offered, still overly pleased to be entertaining two such famous individuals. "And might I add, that it is a wonderful thing for such an affluent couple as yourself to consider adopting a child, especially since I've just read that you already have one of your own at home." Madame Leffere reached into her desk and took out a current copy of the social page, turning it around to display the recent article that had been written about the musical couple. Erik had naturally shied away from doing the interview, yet insisted that Christine meet with the reporter who wrote the story, claiming that it would be good for her career. "It takes a very special couple indeed to contemplate shouldering the responsibility of raising another person's little one, but from my experience, you will never find a stronger love than that of a child who knows they were wanted."

"And we_ do_ want to adopt a child," Christine insisted, a smile coming to her face at the way the woman spoke of those in her care.

"Excellent! So what are you interested in…a boy or a girl?" Charlotte asked, pulling out a large book as she began to leaf through the pages. "We have so many wonderful children in need of good homes."

"Actually, we are interested in a boy…" Erik began, yet at his words Madame Leffere excitedly cut him off.

"A boy, of course! You already have a daughter, so you must be looking for a son, Monsieur Trouville. One who will follow in your footsteps perhaps," she nodded, turning a few more pages in her book. "We have plenty of boys here at the orphanage, and while many often wish for an infant to raise, might I recommend an older child? We have ones ranging from two years of age all the way up to ten."

"We actually have our hearts set on a very specific little boy," Christine broke in, silencing the woman as she looked up at them questioningly.

"You do?" she asked.

"Yes…_Daniel_," Erik insisted. "Remember, the little boy I inquired about when I came by before? You even gave me permission to speak with him in the yard."

"Daniel?" Madame Leffere repeated, as if she could not believe her ears. "I know you were asking about him, but I assumed it was only a passing curiosity…I never thought…" She stopped there and quickly collected herself, shutting the book as she looked at them in a serious manner. "Little Daniel is indeed an exceptional child, Monsieur Trouville, but allow me to be frank with you…he is quite the handful. Not so much in a willful manner, for he is well behaved and obeys orders without complaint. Yet you have seen his _condition_…he will need extra attention and a great deal of understanding."

"All of which we are willing, and more than qualified, to handle, Madame," Erik assured her. "We do not take this responsibility upon ourselves lightly and this is not something we have chosen to do on a mere whim. I assure you, my wife and I are prepared for whatever special needs Daniel requires."

"Please do not think I am attempting to talk you out of your decision," Charlotte quickly interjected, fearing the couple might have misunderstood. "I would be beside myself with joy if we were able to find a suitable home for the boy, for he has been here at the orphanage ever since he was an infant. Daniel has spent years watching families come and go, always choosing the other boys and girls and passing him over. It breaks my heart to see the look of rejection on his little face when he is not the one selected." A stern glare suddenly crossed her features, taking on the air of a mother bear protecting her cub. "And because of this you will find I am very unwilling to let his hopes be trifled with or allow him to be put on display in any manner. If you have come here with the intention of adopting a disfigured child as some type of publicity stunt in order to make you look good to the newspapers, I will not stand for it!"

Christine saw Erik stiffen at the woman's mention of putting Daniel on display, knowing that her husband's mind had certainly slipped back to his horrific days with the gypsies. So, sliding her hand under the desk, she covered his own – doing what she could to infuse a measure of comfort in the contact. At her gentle touch, he seemed to relax, looking away from the now unyielding woman and towards his sympathetic wife. Christine always knew just how to ease his suffering.

"Madame Leffere, let me assure you that we have no intention of ever treating Daniel in such a callous manner," Christine spoke up, knowing that Erik was at present unable to speak without possibly biting the woman's head off over such a suggestion. "My husband and I only have the boy's best interest at heart and would shelter him from anyone who would desire to ridicule or humiliate him due to his disfigurement. He will find only love and acceptance within our home, this I promise you."

Charlotte stared at them both for a long time, assessing their words and doing her best to ascertain if her instincts about the couple could be trusted. The older woman prided herself on being able to discern the true intentions of anyone who came looking for a child at her establishment. Able to pick out those who were only looking for cheap labor or someone to help with chores, and not an addition to a loving family. Those types she turned away without an ounce of guilt, always putting the welfare and happiness of her boys and girls first. And yet, the Trouvilles seemed genuinely sincere in their wish to better little Daniel's life…something she knew would never improve should he remain at the orphanage. Still…it was not solely up to her. The boy's wishes would need to be taken into consideration as well, and she knew that would not be an easy task this day.

"I do believe that you speak from the heart, Madame Trouville," Charlotte agreed at last. "And I am going to allow you to make a petition to adopt the boy. Yet I will go no further until I am convinced that this is what Daniel desires as well."

"May we see him then?" Erik asked, hope now shining in his eyes. "We need no further convincing and would be happy to offer him a permanent home with us…providing he wishes the same himself."

"I am glad you feel that way," she said with a genuine smile, yet it quickly turned to one of worry as she continued. "However, today might not be the best time to speak with him. For you see, yesterday a few of the new boys were caught being rather cruel to the lad…nothing physical, yet I am sure you know that often words can hurt far more than fists."

"You would allow the children under your care to torment the weaker ones?" Erik's voice was now raised in a mixture of disbelief and utter rage. For he did indeed know the power of cruel words and the idea that a little defenseless boy like Daniel had been their target angered him on many levels.

"Of course not!" Madame Leffere was quick to defend herself. "When I learned of this, I took swift and immediate action! Those responsible were properly punished for their actions and none of them will be receiving even a hint of sweets after dinner for a week! I assure you that they will think twice before they choose to be so cruel again."

"Yet how is Daniel?" Christine's motherly instincts were on high alert at this point and while Erik's mind had turned to thoughts of vengeance and retribution, hers were centered only on the need to comfort the wounded child.

"He has been rather melancholy since the incident," Madame Leffere admitted in a sad voice. "He is such a sensitive child and takes these things to heart. He did not want to join the others for play time in the yard so I allowed him to remain inside and draw. Daniel is quite the artist, even at such a young age you can see he has talent."

"Please…_Charlotte_…won't you allow us to speak with him?" Erik almost begged, using the full force of his melodious voice on the woman, in hopes of getting his way. It was a dangerous weapon, one he did not use often…and certainly not lightly, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

The woman seemed stunned at first, yet apparently Erik's tone accomplished its task.

"Of course…I suppose it would do no harm if you simply spoke with him," Madame Leffere reasoned. "After all, he was willing to talk with you before, perhaps he will again. But I warn you, go slow and don't overwhelm the boy all at once." She then rose from her chair and motioned for them to follow her out the side door of her office, taking them through several rooms before they came to what appeared to be a dining area. There were long, narrow tables littered throughout, with wooden benches lining each side, optimizing the amount of children that could fit at each one. At the far table near the back sat a lone figure, his tiny body hunched over a drawing pad as his hand moved meticulously with the pencil to create his work of art.

"Oh, Erik…he looks so little," Christine whispered, taking hold of his arm as she leaned in to him, to either offer or gain support.

"He might be small for his age," Charlotte commented, having overheard Christine's words. "But something tells me he will soon catch up and sprout just like a weed."

"His size does not matter to us," Erik quietly interjected. "Neither does his hair color, shade of his eyes or his disfigurement. What matters is what is on the inside."

"And it is because of comments like that, that I am willing to even consider this adoption, Monsieur Trouville," Madame Leffere told him with a smile. "You are the first ones to show an interest in Daniel and not turn aside solely because of his looks." She then gestured towards the boy. "Why don't you go see if he is in a talkative mood?"

"Perhaps it is best if you go first, Erik," Christine suggested, urging him on. "He already knows you, while he has never met me before. He might be more willing to speak if it is one on one."

Erik nodded, seeing the wisdom of her words, and after giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he slowly began to walk towards the child, leaving the two women to stand by the door and wait.

As he approached, Erik realized he had either done so quite stealthily, or Daniel was simply too engrossed in his project, for he never looked up once. It wasn't until Erik moved to sit down that the boy's head jerked up and his eyes grew wide with fear. Turning quickly he did his best to hide his face from Erik, eyeing him like an intruder from the corner of his left eye. Yet Erik had already seen the boy's disfigurement, with the lumpy, abnormal flesh and mixture of colors that marked him from the top of his right cheek, around his eye and up into his hairline. And while it was far less severe than his own, he knew even the smallest deformity had the potential to ruin the boy's life if not handled correctly.

"Hello, Daniel," Erik began, keeping his tone low and soothing. "My name is Erik…Erik Trouville…do you remember me? We spoke in the yard about a week ago, and you told me all about horses and how fast they can run."

"Yes," he replied in a small voice, still not looking directly at Erik. "I 'member."

"Well, I was so fascinated by what you told me, I asked Madame Leffere if I could come by and talk with you some more," Erik continued. "Would that be all right with you?"

"I…I guess," was all he said, not showing any signs of furthering the conversation himself, yet not refusing either.

"What is it you are drawing there, Daniel?" Erik asked, craning his neck in hopes of seeing what was drawn on the pad of paper. "Is it another horse?" He recalled the almost lifelike sketch he had shown him last time, having marveled over the child's ability to put down on paper what he had seen. It reminded Erik quite a lot of himself at that age, and the fact that he strove for perfection was evident in each stroke of the pencil.

"No! It is a picture of the pond we went to see at the park last week," he instantly corrected, apparently offended that Erik was unable to tell the difference between a horse and what he was currently working on. And while he still sat in a way that hid the right side of his face, Daniel did turn just enough to look at Erik with a touch of exasperation in his little brown eyes. "There were frogs and fish and swans, all swimming around in the pond."

"Swans, you say?" Erik asked, an idea coming to his mind. "Daniel, would you mind if I borrowed a piece of paper from your tablet…I promise not to take one you have already drawn on."

This question caused the boy to turn even further towards Erik, a look of suspicion on his face as his eyes darted between the man and his precious notebook. At last he gave a slight nod.

"I s'pose so," he agreed, obviously his curiosity over why the man would want a piece of paper outweighing his protection over his prized tablet.

"Thank you," Erik replied, taking the book and flipping through till he found a blank sheet and carefully tore it out. He then began to fold the paper as he continued to talk. "I have always loved swans, you know. And do you know why?" He only paused a moment, not expecting an answer, and continuing on in a very engaging tone, mesmerizing the boy with his tale. "It is because when a swan is hatched, they are some of the homeliest looking birds you will ever see. They are gawky little grey things, with heads and feet quite disproportionate to their bodies. They also have beady little eyes, a black beak and sound like they swallowed a frog when they honk." All the while Erik continued to fold his paper, each crease and tuck bringing back a flood of memories of when he was a little boy, watching the loving hands of Anna work her magic. And bit by bit, Daniel too fell under the spell of Erik's words and actions, turning back towards him ever so slightly as he stared wide eyed. "So you might say, in the family of waterfowl, a baby swan is not much to look at. But do you know what happens when they grow up?" Here Erik took the object he had been folding and cupped it in his hands, covering it up and hiding it from the boy's view. This caused him to turn all the way around until he was now facing Erik, looking up at him with eyes that were both wide and curious, instantly forgetting all about hiding the disfigurement on the right side of his face.

"No…what?" he asked, looking at Erik and then to his hands that continued to conceal his creation. "What happens?"

"They blossom into the most amazing and attractive birds there are, putting all others to shame with their grace and beauty." As he said this, Erik opened his hands, allowing Daniel to get his first glimpse of the snowy white swan he had just formed. The little boy gasped and reached out, intent on grabbing for the paper bird, but good manners held him back.

"M-m-may I?" He asked, his little fingers twitching slightly in anticipation.

"Of course. I told you I would only borrow the piece of paper," Erik nodded, setting it down on the table between them. "It is yours."

Daniel gave small squeal of glee as he gently picked the swan up and turned it around and around in his hands, eyeing it from every side and angle.

"Where did you learn to make this?" he asked at last, still looking at Erik full on, his inquisitive little mind now completely oblivious to the fact that his face was on display.

"My mother taught me," Erik revealed, giving no hesitation in referring to Anna as his true parent.

This information caused the boy's smile to fade and his eyes became downcast.

"I don't have a mother," he replied in a sad little voice.

"Neither did I," Erik continued. "Not until I turned eight years old and a wonderful woman came into my life and gave me the love I had always dreamed of."

"You was 'dopted?" Daniel gasped, looking back up at Erik as if the man had suddenly sprouted wings.

"Something like that," Erik smiled. "But even though she was not my real mother, I love her just as if she were." He was going to say more, but just then Daniel's attention seemed to be stolen by something to Erik's right, and turning he saw that Christine had moved closer, capturing the boy's eyes. His hand quickly went to the right side of his face, effectively covering the scarred area.

"Who is _she_?" the boy asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"That is Christine…my wife," Erik explained.

"She is really pretty," Daniel told him, never taking his eyes off the lady who stood just out of earshot.

"Yes, she _is_ very beautiful, isn't she?" Erik could not help but admit with a touch of pride. "Would you like to meet her? She is very nice and she is quite anxious to speak with you."

"She is?" This stunned the boy, causing him to look back at Erik. "Why?"

"I told her all about your drawings and how very smart you are and she wants to get to know you," Erik explained, doing all he could to entice little Daniel into agreeing. "Would it be all right if I called her over?"

This time the boy was unable to respond verbally, still stunned by the fact that such a pretty lady wished to meet him, so all he could do was give a nod of agreement. Erik turned and gestured for Christine to join them, taking hold of her hand as she moved to sit down beside him.

"Hello, Daniel," Christine greeted him warmly. "Erik has told me so much about you that I couldn't wait to come and visit with you myself."

"Are…are you an angel?" Daniel asked suddenly, taking Christine by surprise.

"I have always thought so," Erik spoke up before she could respond, causing her to give him an exasperated look before she did her best to set the boy straight.

"No, I am not an angel, though I thank you very much for thinking so," she told him with another one of her winning smiles. "I would like to be your friend though...in fact we both would."

"That's right," Erik nodded, suddenly overcome by the need to voice the full reason for their visit. He knew that Madame Leffere had warned him to take things slow, yet he found he could hold back no longer. "And maybe in time, we could all become a family as well. Would you like that, Daniel?"

"A family?" This seemed to puzzle the boy for a moment, but then his eyes grew wide with understanding. "Do you mean you want to…to 'dopt me?"

"That was what we were hoping, Daniel," Erik assured him. "Christine and I have a nice home, a big back yard and you could even have your very own room if you came to live with us."

"We realize you don't know us very well, just yet," Christine added, noting that the boy seemed hesitant, "but we would like to spend more time with you so that we can all find out about each other. We don't want you to feel pressured, but we are already very sure that we would like you to become our very own little boy."

Again Daniel was quiet, looking from Erik to Christine and back again in utter shock. This was almost too much for his little mind and heart to believe. Finally he spoke the only words that seemed to make sense.

"But…why?" he asked. "None of the other parents ever wanted to 'dopt me before." Here he looked down at the table and almost choked on his next words. "Madame Leffere says it is because they are foolish…but I know they didn't want me because…because of this." As he said his last word he removed his hand from the side of his face, allowing Christine to see his deformity for the first time.

Erik felt her give his hand a slight squeeze, yet to her credit she did no more than that…no gasp, no look of shock…nothing but continued to smile at the sorrowful little boy.

"Daniel," Erik spoke, causing him to raise his head slightly. "We know about your face…and it is of no concern to us. You don't need to hide it or feel ashamed. We understand…and we want you to be our son regardless. The other families _were_ foolish not to choose you, but their loss is our gain. We want nothing more than for you to come live with us and give us the chance to be your new mother and father." When Daniel still seemed to hesitate, not quite sure if he could believe the wonderful things he was hearing, Erik decided to go for broke. "And to prove to you that Christine and I truly understand what you are going through…I am going to show you _why_ you can believe what we say."

Erik looked over at Christine, searching her eyes for support, and with an understanding nod she gave it. Reaching up with both hands, Erik took hold of the very edge of his rubber mask and gently peeled it upwards, exposing part of his left jaw and cheek to the wide eyes of the little boy. At first Daniel did nothing but stare - he didn't cry, he didn't scream…he didn't even blink. Then, as if he had been struck by lightning, he leapt up from the table, his sudden movements causing the bench to tip over and strike the floor with a loud crash. And before either Erik or Christine could say a word, Daniel ran from the room as if the hounds of hell were at his heels.

Mortified, Erik quickly replaced his mask, smoothing down the edges as he heard the footsteps of Madame Leffere hurriedly approaching from behind.

"I am so sorry!" she apologized when she came near. "I told you that today was not a good day for him…maybe if you come back tomorrow or the next day, he will be in a more receptive mood. I don't know what has gotten into him, he is usually a very polite boy. I have never seen him behave so rudely."

"No…it is fine," Erik muttered, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone. "It was my fault…I pressed too hard too fast. I should have…"

"I fear we did not heed your advice and might have overwhelmed him with our sudden offer of adoption," Christine finished for Erik, knowing just how badly the boy's reaction had hurt him. It had always been Erik's worst fear that their children would be frightened by the sight of him. And to have this boy, whom he already thought of as a son in his heart, react this way…well, it was a painful blow indeed. "It is not his fault…we should have been more tactful…broached the subject slower perhaps."

"You were simply eager, that is quite understandable," Charlotte spoke in an understanding voice, completely void of condemnation. "I do hope you will not give up though, Daniel might be a touch on the emotional side, but he has the capacity to love just as strongly. He will come around…you will see."

"We hope you are right," Christine said with a sad smile, taking Erik's hand as the two of them rose and began to follow Madame Leffere out of the room. "Perhaps we might come back later this week? We could bring our daughter, and maybe seeing us with another child will cause him to trust us more?"

"That is a marvelous idea," she told them. "Daniel is very good with babies, in fact he is a big help to me when I let him assist in the nursery. Your little daughter might just be the very thing that helps him relate to you." She gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. "And I thought it seemed to be going so well, too."

"Again…it was my fault," Erik repeated, not having met the woman's eye once since Daniel had run off. "I…I just pray that he does not fear me now…and never wish to speak with us again."

"Time will tell, Monsieur Trouville…time will tell," Charlotte held out her hand, shaking Christine's first and then Erik's while wishing them a good afternoon. They had just turned to leave when they heard an almost desperate cry from the top of the stairs.

"WAIT! Don't leave without me!" It was Daniel who called, hurrying down the stairs with his little arms full of clothes, a stuffed toy and the white paper swan that neither Erik nor Christine had noticed he had taken with him. "I'm ready to go…don't forget to take me with you!"

"Daniel?" Madame Leffere could not believe her eyes. As he launched himself off the final step she reached out with both hands, stopping him so abruptly that a pair of pants and a stray sock fell from his bundle of possessions onto the floor. "With the way you ran off so quickly, I thought you didn't want to speak with the Trouvilles any longer."

"No! They are going to be my new mommy and daddy!" he insisted, struggling to get by the woman, desperate to follow Erik and Christine. "They want to 'dopt me…they said so! I am ready to go right now!"

"Do you mean that you want to come live with us, Daniel?" Erik asked, hardly able to believe his own ears. Perhaps he had not ruined everything after all by showing the boy his face.

"Yes…I want to be _your_ son," he insisted, finally making his way past the protective woman and coming to stand in front of Erik, craning his neck as he strained to look up at him. He did not try to hide his face as he spoke, nor the lone tear that escaped his eye and slid down his cheek. "You are the only one who understands. You…you are just like me!"

Erik was on his knees in an instant, taking the boy in his arms and holding him tightly to him. The clothes and toys fell to the floor between them as his own little hands came up to wrap themselves around Erik's neck, squeezing him back with all his might.

"I _do_ understand," Erik whispered into his ear, fighting back his own tears. "I understand more than you will ever know, and I promise that with us, you will never have to worry about anything ever again."

Christine, who had not even bothered stifling her tears, covered her heart with her hands and watched the tender scene before her. Erik had been right…in only a few moments of time, a bond had been forged…one that would never be broken.

After a few moments more, Erik pulled back just long enough to scoop the boy into his arms, holding him securely.

"It would appear that things are settled then," he announced, giving the still perplexed woman a wide grin. "Christine and I would like to adopt Daniel, and he seems to have no objections to the idea. Just tell us where to sign to make it all official and the boy can go home with us immediately."

"I am afraid it is not that simple, Monsieur Trouville," Charlotte sputtered, everything happening far too quickly for her peace of mind. "There is paperwork to file, inspections to be made…these things take time."

"But I want to go home with them now!" Daniel cried, wrapping his arms around Erik's neck as if he would never let go. "Please don't leave without me!"

This was breaking Christine's heart into a million pieces and she was afraid that nothing short of the gendarmes coming in and prying them apart would separate Erik from his new son.

"Madame Leffere…Charlotte," she began, skillfully using the woman's first name in a desperate attempt to find a solution to all this. "Isn't there something we can do to expedite things? There has to be some way that Daniel can come home with us. We promise that we will be the best of parents to him…you have to believe us."

The elderly woman looked from the tear stained face of the little boy she held such affection for, to the pleading eyes of the two adults, and gave a heavy sigh.

"This is highly irregular," she began, allowing a glimmer of hope to ignite in Erik and Christine. "However…I suppose I could allow you to take him home with you…" She quickly held up her hand and added, "on a trial basis only! All will be contingent upon the two of you passing inspection and proving that you can offer Daniel a stable home environment and a decent upbringing." She then stopped there and broke out into a wide grin. "Yet who would ever doubt such a thing when you both are so well regarded in society. Besides, everyone knows about the magnificent home you just had built on the edge of town…in fact I myself have driven by in my carriage several times while it was under construction. The home of the future, I have heard it said…and now I will have an excuse to come and see it for myself!"

"You are welcome anytime," Erik assured her, willing to say anything if it allowed him to walk out of there with Daniel in his arms. "And as a special thanks I will have a pair of season tickets for next year's operas sent over in your name, Madame Leffere."

"Oh, that is hardly necessary," she blushed.

"No, we insist!" Christine asserted. "It would be our pleasure."

"Well then, far be it from me to deprive you of such joy," she laughed, apparently eager to have the tickets as well, and not ashamed to show it. "Yet none of that would matter at all if I did not feel deep in my heart that this is the very best thing for Daniel, and that the three of you belong together."

"You mean the four of us," Erik corrected. "You forget that Daniel has a little sister waiting for him at home."

"A sister?" the boy pulled back and stared at Erik, a wide grin spreading over his face.

"That's right, you will not only have a mommy and a daddy, but you will be a big brother to our daughter Julianna," Erik informed him. "However, she is still just a little girl and you will have to help us take care of her. Can you do that?"

"Oh, yes!" Daniel cried, now even more eager to go home with them.

"Well then, it would seem the only thing we need to worry about is finding Daniel a satchel in which to carry his things," Charlotte laughed, heading to one of the closets and digging around until she returned holding an old carpet bag with wooden handles. "I think this shall do nicely. Are you certain you got everything you will need?" she questioned as she and Christine began scooping up the boy's small pile of clothing and stuffed it into the bag.

"I got everything that belongs to me," he nodded, reaching out his hand as he saw her pick up the paper swan. "I will carry that!" he cried, not wanting it to be damaged by being placed in with his other things. With an understanding smile Madame Leffere handed it to him, watching as he cradled it reverently to his chest for protection.

So after many more words of thanks and a tearful goodbye on the part of Madame Leffere, Erik and Christine walked out of the orphanage with the newest addition to their family, happily perched in Erik's strong arms.

"Will I now get a last name?" he asked suddenly, looking from Erik to Christine expectantly. "I have never had one before."

"It might take some time before it can be made official, but yes, you will share our last name…Trouville," Christine assured him. "Would you like that?"

"Daniel Trouville," the boy repeated, trying it on for size. "I love it!"

"And we love you," Erik told him in all seriousness. "Don't you ever forget that."

"I won't!" he giggled, once more leaning in to give his new father a great big hug.

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**Soooo, how did you like the first half of Daniel's adoption into the Trouville family? **

**One more chapter to go as they bring him home. I will post that as soon as I finish writing it. ha ha.**

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**And now...to my wonderful Guest reviewers!**

Scroll down until you find your name. I will **try** and put the chapter numbers I am referring to before my comments if I am responding to multiple reviews by you.

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**MlleNikki:** 45 - I will never think you are weird/crazy/stupid for laughing out loud at anything I have written...in fact I encourage it and Erik will punjab anyone who looks at your strangely for doing so. Erik says thank you for offering to help him lasso Raoul...but I think he has got it covered. ha ha. And YES we did pass up MBTM! 46 - Poor Amir, locked inside like a forgotten puppy. It would have served ERik right if he had dittled on the carpet and chewed holes in all his socks. And if you think you will be without something to fill your time, what about me? Much of my days for the past two months has been reading and responding to all your reviews...I will be LOST. I guess I will just have to write more. ha ha. 47 - Raoul came, he lost, he left. Their hearts DID call to each other! OH yes, Walter got what was coming to him. He was a fool to let Anna go...a plain fool and now he knows it. 48 - But Amir and Victor chased them away, the girls are safe. Amir said he wrote a speech, but Erik never ASKED him to give one. haha. But he might have given it...or Erik might have told him to shut his mouth...who knows. ha ha. Glad you liked it. 49 - Glad you thought it was done tastefully. I do hope you read my other stories, and I wuold love to hear what you thought, but with them being all done and you signing in as a guest, how would I ever respond? You need to get an account! 50 - Julianna and Samuel would be great together. I do like sneaking in the title. ha ha. I am glad you liked Daniel...he was a last minute add in...did not even think of him till the last second. I love happy endings too. I have other stories already finished too, if you have not read them and need something to do while I write my next one. Thanks for all your wonderful reviews! See you on the next story!

**TheRebbs98:** Yep, that is it...well, sort of...I did just post a bonus chapter...but then THAT is it. ha ha. Erik does love calling Amir names. Ha ha, glad Amir and Victor made you happy with their Raoul bashing. Your wish about hearing more about Daniel is granted! POOF. I should have written more on him but he was a absolute last minute brainstorm and the chapter was already twice as long as it was originally meant to be...so ya...ended it there. I do hope I can make you like modern day Erik...I too have never tried this...so it could be a major FOP...errr...I mean flop. ha ha. Thanks for all your wonderful words and for reviewing so often. It has meant a lot. Your obedient servant, FP33.

**syrianlight:** I am so happy you liked it. Yah...I kind of wanted to see how little Daniel came into the family too...I am a sucker for kids and that kind of stuff. Hope you saw my bonus chapter 51. And of course Amir will have a girl...maybe twin girls...or triplets! Erik WILL have his revenge! haha. Well, now I am no genius like Erik...but I thank you for saying I am one at writing. I appreciated all your reviews and I look forward to entertaining you again! Thanks, FP33

**PhanGuest:** 45 - Ha ha, I don't mean to scare you...but I WILL bring Raoul in and there is nothing you can do about it, ha ha. Amir is an old softie. OH I love how you put that...Erik seeing Amir as an asset and not a friend. ha ha. I am VERY attached to them! 47 - Oh you know it...NO ONE would have let them be a couple. But you do know what they say about forbidden love. ha ha. Good thing E and C were solid and nothing could break them up! Erik did get a bit choked up over her song. I like you calling him Chuck. TWO weddings! I LOVE Philippe! It sucks he died in the Leroux book, but I tend to make my Philippe a stand up kind of guy...like an older, more charming version of Raoul. ha ha. 50 - Glad you liked Julianna (the name came to me in the spur of the moment. ha ha) Christine loves telling important things in fun ways. Samuel is cute but he drives ERik crazy with how much he likes his daughter. What father isn't? Sorelli could have played a bigger part, but my story was already so stinking long. haha. Of course you like Erik! Yes, get an account! I have more stories finished for you to read (if you have not already) until my new one is done. So check them out and see you next time!

**Mystery:** 45 - As you know, I just killed Suzette off and let her die alone and sad. I think it would have been horrible for Erik to have to face her again...that and I just hated her too much to have to write more lines for her. And you saw that I gave Anna her "in your face" moment with Walter. What a sorry sack of bones he was. I think if Christine hadn't stopped him, Erik would have wrung his neck for sure. I threw in a curve ball or two...nothing too serious. Your description of their new house was almost spot on...did you notice! No animal sanctuary though...but it might happen eventually. AND you gave Erik a daughter too! were you reading my story over my shoulder? 46 - REALLY...what other stories is he asking him for sex advice in? I want to read those! ha ha. NO! Don't Ask Charles! You are very welcome and I think you SHOULD write stories. But you WILL need an account. ha ha. 47 - Yep, Erik and Charles bond over the hate for the de Chagnys! OH yes, Charles and Erik are practically TWINS! Just think of all they have in common and how they fly off the handle and jump to conclusions! Erik is much more confidant...most of the time. ha ha. 48 - Yep, the wedding night usually comes after the wedding. ha ha. Warm and fuzzy is good. I hope you do not turn too red...it is smut light after all. 49 - ha ha, yes, no pressure on Christine or the kids, right? I like Stellar...a bit too much perhaps? I will go check that out. Hmmmmm. (switched out two of them!) Slightly pink beats a red tomato any day. 50 - I overwhelmed you with feels? Wow. In my mind they have two more after this, a total of four. And Amir has at least ONE little girl...maybe more. ha ha. Should they get a dog named Scooby as well? ha ha. I think it is very important for a writer to respond to reviews. YOU are what makes posting fun, if I never wrote back, why on earth would you want to send in so many lovely reviews? And often your thoughts and suggestions will make me go back and fix things or add stuff to improve the story! I will keep writing...and have you read my other stories I have already finished on my page? Erik Efficiency speed? That is very fast, but I will try to write that quickly. Thanks again for everything. FP33

**PhantomChristine:** 43 - Like she should kiss his face off till he says YES we can have babies? Oh I think she will get her way eventually. 44 - NO DYING...well, of laughter is OK I guess. ha ha. 45 - Soooo, I put Raoul in...where is my stern talking to? I am waiting... 46 - Oh boy, THAT conversation will be a pip...right? 47 - Yep, they are moving to Paris. Oh but what fun it will be to fill her in on the whole de Chagny story right after meeting them! 48 - Yep, married! And I would say a WIN for them too. 49 - Ha ha, glad you clarified...(but truthfully I don't think Erik wanted it to end either, ha ha) I am glad you thought it was tasteful. Go read the epilogue ...you know you want to. 50 - Yes it is over now...no more music of the night. I don't want it to end either...so as you can see I did not let it. ha ha. (hope you read the bonus chapter above) Erik's question was originally "can we have more kids" but at the last moment before posting I changed it to "can we adopt" and invented Daniel on the spur of the moment! Oh Amir's second kid...and maybe even his third, will be girls for sure! He so deserves lots of girls to worry about. ha ha. Well, I gave you a one shot...we will just have to see what my muse thinks of a two shot. haha. But thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews and comments. I loved responding to them all. Thanks again, FP33

**Grandma Paula:** Don't worry, you did not pull a Rip Van Winkle or anything, I just mass posted the last five chapters. Wow, an all-nighter huh? Well, a half-nighter at least. ha ha. Erik does have that evil streak in him, but all us Phangirls know..."WE CAN CHANGE HIM!" Thankfully I have the power to do so...at least in my own stories. ha ha. You just go back and re-read any of mine all you want, I won't mind one little bit. I do hope I can keep up a good writing schedule and get my next one done in a fair amount of time. All depends on how faithful my muse is. *Did you hear that, Erik...you are my muse you know* Thank you once again for all your kind words and literary support. FP33

**Masked Jewel:** 2 - OH yes, I think you did indeed! 3 - I hope you won't go MAD...that would be rather messy with all that foaming at the mouth. 4 - Erik does TRY to be good...but no one is perfect. ha ha. 5 - Uhhhh, yes, it would not only dampen them but it would but a legal STOP to them as well, ha ha. 6 - Erik will be a master composer! And Henri would have been so proud! 7 - Do try and bake them, they are fun. It is not nice to tease friends (or Amir...ha ha) Sorry the oven hated her. 8- Yep, you got most of the hit-list...there will be more though. 9 - You know...Henri looks a lot like Ramin. How odd. haha And I already knew she has the hots for Ramin...that is old news. 10- I have an Erik for every story I wrote...so six. And they all live here with me in my spare room...getting kind of crowded in there. They do get along pretty well though... I even took them all to Disneyland with me once. THAT was fun. 11 - He don't know that yet! Shhhh, don't ruin the surprise for him! 12 - Yes, you ShOULD make an account. I won't tell her you said that...but I bet she will READ it. 13 - Yah, he needs to work on his 'people skills'. ha ha. 14 - Because I wanted her to be...simple answer. 15 - It will never be far enough. 18 - Erik does not like CLEANING windows...so no windows. 16 - I am glad to hear it, since doing stuff you don't want to SUCKS! 17 - Telegrams are like old time Texts! 19 - I have no idea...but it can be done...just not by me. 20 - Why is he poor? I thought he had lots of money? ha ha. 21 - Yes it was. But I needed a good reason why he did not sing for people. That would do it. 22 - Who can't process your review? And Erik will sing gain...I promise. 23 - Poor thing, blind and Erik won't sing for her. So sad. 24 - I bet DD couldn't wait for Christine to start singing either! 25 - Yep, no one caterwalls like Carlotta! 26 - Not really, it just feels that way. ha ha. Raoul is around...somewhere... 27 - all couples argue...it is how they make up that shows they love each other. 28 - ha ha, yes, Erik in a tutu is a sight to behold. 29 - OH yes, they DO love each other...umm...wait...you did mean E and C right? ha ha. 30 - Yes, things WOULD have been better if he had let her post that letter for real! 31 - WOULD ERik pay for a new desktop computer? Because the answer is HECK YES! 32 - Agreed, that is why most higher a wedding planner! But not Erik, he tends to micromanage. Not sure if you are getting ahead of yourself or not. ha ha. 33 - well THAT is because you peeked ahead, ha ha. 34 - I am glad you were much more patient than DD with the whole sight coming back thing. Thanks. 35 - Well you did please everyone...including me! And yes, I did need to wake up and say YES to all your reviews. That is the deal with guest reviews, I need to OK them first. 36 - A blind girl has to have SOME fun. Erik always uses his time wisely...unless he is sulking or something. 37 - Ohhhh, a teacher's pet huh? But really, reading in class can't be a bad thing...I mean they WANT you to read right? I did notice a lot of threats...and kidnapping and more threats. She is taking lessons from Erik. 38 - No...He just wants Erik to go away so he can have his 'little girl' back. Dads are like that. But yes, shame on him for his naughty thoughts about Erik's manners. 39 - Stop gasping and start making that account! And yes, tea for Amir IS something to gasp about. 40 - Ummmm, sitting in a tree making little ERiks and Christines sounds rather dangerous. Might they try a bed? 41 - I got a kick out of the CAD thing too! 42 - ha ha, you make it sound like you are chasing me. Awwwww, did I make the big, bad reviewer cry like a wittle girl? GOOD! I take that as the highest compliment. Monique is pretty...Amir sure thinks so. 43 - One true love is all you need. You keep telling me things that she will undoubtedly read on her own you know. haha. I even asked her if she wanted me to sensor your posts and take out the embarrassing stuff, but she said you would kill her if I did. ha ha. NO deaths! If Erik is forbidden, so are all of you. Or...did she PAY the curtain guy to forget to pull it? Hmmmmm? I think maybe! 44 - ha ha, oh yes, well, they could have kissed and just said it was an artitic decision to stay in character. ha ha. Blame it on art! And no...Erik is taken...BY ME! You can have Raoul. 45 - I woke up and approved them...I did! And I did indeed take your suggestion as you can see...hence this whole chapter of guest reviews. And I am sorry you got hit on the head like that, but you should not go on and on about a girl's love life on line. Tis not polite. ha ha. 46 - Of course she will win...you doubt me? I think Erik asking for sex advice from Amir is VERY funny. But smart! 47 - I am glad you thought Raoul and Philippe were funny. I do like them...just not bothering Christine. Yep, Amir and Victor were as tolerant as Erik was! 48 - The meringue tower sounds pretty, but I am not a meringue fan...so, can I just look but not taste? 49 - Yep they did it. Now shhhh, leave the love birds alone. 50 - wow, you did it! all 50 (give or take a few) Glad you liked how she told him she was pregnant. I do have a way of using the title...in SOME of them, but not all. So you read Tapestry too? I did not know that. Thanks for liking SIB, even though you were forced to read it. Your reviews were very entertaining and I enjoyed reading every one of them! Thanks, FP33

**Happy Dance:** Thanks! Yes, they are friends...reluctant ones but friends none the less. Thanks for reading! 41 - Nothing like finding out what your future husband was like as a child. Ha ha, staying close to the life raft...that was funny. Yep, Meg is a good way to get to Victor, Victor is a good way to get to Erik and well...Erik is just good to get to. ha ha. 42 - Awwww, you liked that chapter did ya? You just dance and squeal all you want! Of course the swan would come back, it HAD to. ha ha. Thanks. 43 - Been waiting for the drunk Christine talk? Well here it is. 44 - It was perfectly awkward. haha. Charles needs to work on his tact. 45 - Yes, no one was happy to think of Raoul. Nope, he will not cause trouble, just a bit of annoyance.

**Kate:** Oh my big mind is sure full of a lot of things...exciting ideas are hopefully one of them. haha. I will do my best to write fast and not disappoint. Thank you very much!

**4Roc:** Tell whomever recommended it to you, thank you from me. And wow, all in one night and one morning? You must have bloodshot eyes by now. Thanks for your dedication and for liking it.

**xtinax89:** sounds like you are happy!

**Anon:** Well...you do know that Erik was never a very meaty kind of guy...right? haha.

**Guestxx:** is that a good thing...or a bad thing? ha ha.

**Impatient Reader**: You poor thing...I feel terrible now for actually sleeping in and thinking only of my beauty rest. I hope you did not perish.

**DTphantom:** Nope, Raoul does not have a love-leg to stand on. Erik and Christine are solid!

**Guest:** You have no idea how close you are!

**Guest:** Thanks for being excited!

**Guest:** I am happy you liked the ending...and funny you should ask for a little more about Daniel. Did you see the bonus chapter above I just posted?


	52. Appendices 2 Home Sweet Home

**STOP! READ THIS FIRST!**

**If you missed reading Chapter 51 \- thinking it was only the 'guest review responses' then you need to go back and read the first part of Daniel's adoption. **

**Yes, there WAS a chapter in there!  
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**(responses to guest reviews are once more found at the END of this chapter)**

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Also, I checked with the Amazon/Kindle people and they said that YOU, the buyer, must write in and requests that an update for my story be pushed through for you, but they will not automatically update a story unless there is some serious readability issues. So...I have temporarily removed SIB from being for sale until I can update it with ALL the new chapters as well. Then when I put it back up for sale (with the new chapters included), I will also be publishing the new chapters in a stand alone 'book' that can be downloaded - at the cheapest rate they will allow - for those who bought the earlier version. So they can keep the old and new one without having to ask the Kindle people to update it for them if they do not want to. I will also keep them up here on the FF site for FREE. If you have any questions about this process, please PM me and I will explain it to you the same way they explained it to me.

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**And now we continue with the tale of Little Daniel Trouville...**

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**Seeing is Believing**

**Appendices #2**

**Home Sweet Home**

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A carriage was soon hailed and the three of them climbed inside, with little Daniel firmly planted between the two beaming adults. He talked the entire way back, asking questions about this and that and telling them every thought that seemed to pop into his imaginative little mind. With as many things as he had said and talked about, Erik and Christine were pretty sure they knew everything there was to know about the boy…but they quickly discovered there was more to him than met the eye.

"Will you make me a mask to wear just like you?" he asked suddenly, looking up at Erik with hopeful eyes. "If I had one like yours, then I could be just like the other boys, and not be teased all the time."

"Daniel," Erik began with a sigh of regret. "I know that it has been very hard for you, having to deal with a disfigurement at your age. And I am very sorry you had to go through all that, but hiding your face from the world will never be a permanent solution. Granted, I do wear a mask when I go out in public, but lately I do it more for the sake of others, than for myself."

"I don't understand," he responded, cocking his head to the side in an effort to comprehend Erik's words.

"You see, Daniel," Christine broke in, attempting to make things more clear. "Erik never wears his mask at home or around those who love and care for him. For if a person is your friend, they should not care if you are different. A true companion would love you just as you are, and nothing would ever change their opinion of you…certainly not what you looked like."

"That's right," Erik agreed, once more capturing the boy's full attention. "So when you are with us, we do not want you worrying about covering your face or feeling self-conscious. We love you just the way you are, as will Julianna and anyone else worthy to be called family or friends. Do you understand?"

Daniel nodded his head, his eyes still wide with amazement at the words of love and acceptance he had just heard.

"That isn't to say that I cannot make you a sort of mask that will cover this," Erik added, reaching out to gently touch the blemished side of the boy's face. "For there will always be cruel people in this world who will judge us for being different. But it will only be for special outings and the like…never for at home or around family. All right?"

"Oh, yes!" he agreed, excited by Erik's offer. "I promise!"

After that he began to ask a million questions about Erik's mask; what it was made of, how he had constructed it, and what he used to keep it in place. Erik was just about out of breath from answering them all by the time the coach stopped in front of their home. Opening the door and stepping out, Erik reached in to assist Daniel and then Christine.

"This is your house?" Daniel gasped, staring up at the place once he had climbed out of the cab.

"No…this is _our_ house," Erik corrected him. "You live here now as well."

If at all possible, this made the little boy smile even more and he reached out to take the hand that Christine offered, eager to go inside and explore. Erik grabbed the satchel and followed them up, watching as Daniel exuberantly hopped up the stairs two at a time, his small legs barely long enough to accomplish such a feat. Once inside the boy's eyes grew wide as he spun around, trying to see everything at once.

"We only officially moved in last night," Erik explained, suddenly noting the lack of furnishings in the spacious entryway. There were still a lot of knick-knacks and things to be brought from his lair, something he intended to do in time, yet he hated the idea of the boy thinking they were unable to provide more furniture. "So not all of our belongings have arrived, but enough to be comfortable with for now. And once you have chosen the room you wish to call your own, I will see that it is decorated to your liking…no expense will be spared!"

"Erik, he is a child," Christine laughed, noting that Daniel was hardly listening to anything Erik was saying, still fascinated by his surroundings and eagerly inspecting every nook and cranny. "What do you imagine he will ask for, Egyptian cotton sheets and a diamond incrusted floor?"

"I only meant…" but Erik stopped suddenly when he heard the little boy give a squeal of delight and race through an open door and into another room. The two of them followed with curious looks on their faces, only to discover that Daniel had found the music room. He was already crawling up onto the piano bench and sitting as tall as his little frame would allow. When he reached out one of his tiny fingers and pressed down on a key, the sound it emitted caused him to squeak with joy. Another key was tried, then another and another. It was obvious that he knew nothing about how to play…at least not properly…yet Erik immediately saw his raw potential. After all, without the desire to play an instrument, all the talent in the world was useless.

"Would you like to learn to play the piano?" Erik asked, walking over and taking a seat beside him.

"Oh, yes!" Daniel beamed. "Do you know how?"

"I have been known to dabble a bit," Erik told him in a nonchalant tone, before reaching out and allowing his long, slender fingers to speak for themselves. He did not play much, but what he did had little Daniel's mouth gaping wide as he watched Erik's hands fly across the keys, creating the most amazing music the boy had ever heard. When he finished, Erik looked down at him and smiled. "And with practice, you too can play the very same way. I will teach you."

If Daniel had not already idolized Erik, he was certainly struck with a case of hero-worship now. It was like all his wishes and dreams had come true in one day…and yet he had a feeling that this was only the beginning. He was about to ask Erik to play some more, but Christine's voice from the doorway stopped him.

"How about we head upstairs and see about choosing a room for you, Daniel?" she offered, once more holding out her hand to him.

It moved Daniel deeply that this pretty woman was not afraid to touch him or to look at him without shying away or appearing sad. Only Madame Leffere, who had taken care of him since before he could remember, had been able to be around him without acting strange. The other helpers at the orphanage were kind…but none of them went out of their way to spend any extra time with him. He had always been more independent than the other children, quickly learning self-reliance so that he did not have to bother anyone to help him dress or bathe. Yet here was this lady, offering her touches and smiles and he could not help but lap it up like a kitten with a saucer of milk. Scrambling down off the bench he quickly ran to her side and took her hand in his, grinning up at her without an ounce of shame upon his face.

"I get my own room?" he asked as Christine led him out the door and towards the stairs, waiting there just long enough to make sure Erik grabbed the boy's bag before they all headed up together.

"There is a very nice one right next to Julianna's room, with a big window that overlooks the back yard," she explained as they crested the landing and walked down the hallway. "I think you will like that one very much."

When Erik stopped at the door and pushed it open, gesturing for the boy to go inside, he stepped through with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Yet what he saw apparently pleased him greatly, for he once again gave a squeal of delight and ran straight for the bed. Crawling up onto the springy mattress he threw himself back on the downy quilt and let his whole body sink into the feathery goodness.

"My very own room with my very own bed!" Daniel cried, a fit of giggles quickly following his words. He then sat up and looked around, his eyes taking in the rest of the room in mere seconds. Next he jumped down and rushed to the large window, pressing his nose to the plate glass as he stared out at the massive back yard that would quickly become his playground of wonder.

"The dresser over here will be yours," Christine informed him, as she took the satchel from Erik's hands and set it beside the wooden piece of furniture. "I know you did not bring much with you, but we will soon see that all the drawers are filled with shirts, pants and all other kinds of clothing for you to wear."

"Now who is going a bit overboard?" Erik teased as he approached his wife from behind, whispering his words into her ear. A wicked grin spread across his lips as he watched Christine give a shiver of delight, his voice taking on an almost sensuous tone that always made her hum with pleasure. "Little boys do not care about clothes, my love."

"Oh, and what _do_ little boys enjoy?" she countered, leaning back against his solid chest.

"Not the same thing that bigger boys crave," he assured her, doing his best to remember that there was an impressionable child in the room. He then cleared his throat and took a few steps away from his desirable wife. "And certainly not how many pairs of pants he owns. A boy needs paper and pencils, building blocks and books to keep his mind active…not to mention toys." His eyes grew wide as a thought suddenly struck him. "And a pony!"

"A pony?!" Daniel asked, turning around to face Erik.

"Seriously, Erik? A pony at his age?" Christine was not sure if she liked the idea of that. "He is only four years old, he could get hurt!"

"Samuel is only four and Amir is teaching him to ride!" Erik offered in his defense.

"And I suppose if Amir and his son decided to jump off the Pont Alexandre and into the Seine, then you would think you had to as well?" she countered, crossing her arms and staring at him sternly.

"Who is Samuel…and Amir?" Daniel spoke up, blissfully ignorant of the battle of wills going on before him over Erik's suggestion.

"You will meet them soon enough," Christine smiled, knowing that it would not be long before Erik invited his friend over to proudly show off his new son. "But for now, let us head downstairs and make some lunch. I know that I am getting hungry, how about you?"

Daniel nodded in agreement and headed for the door, but stopped suddenly and ran back to the window. There he reached into his shirt pocket and took out the neatly folded swan and set it on the windowsill, pressing gently on the paper folds until its wings were spread wide and its long, slender neck jutted out proudly in the noonday sun. When he was satisfied with how it looked, being his first attempt at decorating his sparse room, he ran back and took hold of both Erik and Christine's hands.

"So, do I really get a pony?" he asked, grinning wildly as he allowed them to escort him back down the stairs.

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They had just reached the foyer when there came a knock at their door. Erik and Christine looked curiously at one another, both having no idea who it might be. Thinking that perhaps her parents could be returning Julianna sooner than expected, Christine headed for the door, quite anxious to introduce Daniel to the rest of his new family. Yet when she pulled it open, it was not the faces of her parents that waited on the other side…but instead those of Amir and Samuel.

"Amir…what a surprise," she stammered. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" Christine was not quite sure if Erik was prepared for a battle of wits with his Persian friend at the moment. Yet she could hardly tell him to go away and shut the door in his face…even if that was something Erik would have no trouble doing.

"Samuel and I have come to meet the newest member of your family, of course," Amir told her, stepping inside, followed closely by little Samuel. He was holding a box in his arms and wore a very smug smile on his face.

"How…how did you know?" Christine gasped, looking from the pleased Persian to Erik and back again. "Did Erik tell you?"

"I would never discuss such a thing with anyone before you, my dear!" Erik protested, approaching the three of them, with Daniel in tow. "Much less _him_!"

"Your husband speaks the truth, Christine," Amir assured her, his grin never wavering. "Yet I did not earn the title of Daroga of Mazanderan for nothing. I am very well connected in this town, you know, and I have spies everywhere. And when it comes to Erik, old habits die hard…so you can't fault me for making it _my_ business to know what _his_ business is at all times."

"Oh, really?" Erik replied as he crossed his arms and gave the man a skeptical look. "Spies, you say? And who exactly would that be, for I know that Victor has wisely stopped supplying you with information about my activities quite some time ago."

Amir was about to respond when he caught sight of the small boy next to Erik, standing as tall as he could and folding his own little arms in an exact copy of the man beside him. The child was even doing his best to mimic the smirk on Erik's face as well and the vision they made caused him to burst out in laughter.

"Fine! I have no spies," he chuckled in confession. "Monique and I were in town this morning and saw the three of you coming out of the orphanage. It did not take much deductive reasoning to figure out your purpose for being there. And the presence of this young gentleman here only proves I was right." He then held up the box he had brought. "And seeing as how this all came about quite suddenly, Erik, I figured that you did not take time to consider what a boy of his age might require. So, Monique and I went home and packed up a few of Samuel's things he had outgrown and brought over a care package to help welcome the lad. You will find clothes, toys and a few books in here, enough to get him by until you can see that he is properly outfitted."

"Amir, that was very kind of you," Christine said, deeply touched by their friends' gesture. She then gave Erik a look that told him he needed to respond as well.

"Yes, Daroga…it was very nice," he replied begrudgingly.

"Please tell Monique thank you as well," Christine continued. "That was very thoughtful of her to think of such things."

"She would have come with me, but one trip outside the house per day is about all she can take this late in her pregnancy," he was quick to explain. "I left her home with her feet propped up and a cool glass of lemonade in her hand."

Samuel, who had been standing by politely while the grownups talked, had finally reached his limit of patience and bounded forward, eager to meet the little boy who was just about his size. His actions startled Daniel and he quickly ducked behind Erik's legs for protection, peeking out while trying to keep the right side of his face sufficiently hidden.

"Hello!" Samuel greeted, not at all deterred by Daniel's shyness. "My name is Samuel…what's yours?"

Daniel turned his head and looked up at Erik, seeking guidance for how he was supposed to respond. When Erik looked down and gave him a smile and a nod he swallowed his fear and answered in a hesitant voice.

"Daniel…" he began, and then in a stronger tone, one filled with a hint of pride, he added. "Daniel Trouville."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Daniel Trouville," Amir cut in, setting the box down on a nearby bench and knelt down beside his son as he too greeted the boy. "Samuel here has been looking for someone to play with and I was hoping you two could become friends, just like Erik and I." At that, Erik gave a bit of a snort, but Amir chose to ignore it.

"We could go out back and I can show you the swing that Uncle Erik made for Julianna," Samuel suggested, anxious to give the boy the grand tour. "But she is still too little to use it; she would fall and hurt herself. So I am the only one who swings on it so far. But now with you here, we can take turns pushing each other and it will be twice as much fun! Or we could play tag instead or whatever you want to do!"

"You…you want me to play with you?" Daniel asked, apparently shocked that this new little boy did not shy away from him because of his face. "You don't mind that…that I look…_different?"_

Samuel cocked his head to the side and regarded Daniel thoughtfully.

"You do look different," he agreed, with all his childish honesty. "But so do I. I have darker skin than you and some of the other kids make fun of me for that." When he felt Amir's hand pat his shoulder in a comforting gesture, Samuel turned and smiled at his father. "But my papa says that looks do not matter, it is what is on the inside that counts." He then looked back at Daniel with a shrug of indifference. "Besides, Uncle Erik's face looks even worse, and I still like him."

"Samuel!" Amir gasped, turning beet red at his son's thoughtless words.

However when Erik burst out in laughter, shocking everyone with his good humor, all the tension in the room quickly vanished.

"Your son has indeed inherited your flair for tact, Daroga…but he does have a point," Erik said, causing Amir to release a sigh of relief. "And if Samuel can stand to be around me, looking as I do, who am I to argue with his logic and generosity?"

"Can I take Daniel out to play then?" the miniature Persian asked, completely oblivious to the importance of what had just been said.

"Of course you can," Christine agreed. "As long as he wishes to go outside and play as well."

"I do!" Daniel spoke up, now quite eager to spend time with his new friend who didn't seem intent on teasing him or calling him cruel names like the other boys he knew.

"Then you two have fun," Erik nodded, also giving his permission. "Just be sure to come back inside when we inform you that lunch is ready," he instructed, recalling that the preparation of a noontime meal had been the reason they had come downstairs in the first place. He still might not be prone to eat very often, but he knew his wife…and now his son, needed regularly scheduled nourishment. He certainly couldn't have Madame Leffere showing up and accuse him of starving the boy…she would never allow him to stay then!

"We will!" Samuel promised, grabbing Daniel by the hand and running out the back patio doors with the boy in tow.

Once the doors shut behind them, leaving the grownups alone, Amir's smile grew even wider as he slapped Erik on the back with pride.

"Erik, if someone had told me six years ago that you would turn out to be such a family man, I would have accused them of overindulging in heavy drink!" he laughed.

"The same could be said for you," Erik pointed out, recalling the Persian's overly amorous nature with the fairer sex.

"Yet look at you now," he continued, ignoring Erik's little jab. "A husband, a beloved son-in-law and now a father of not only one…but _two_ fine children! You do amaze me!"

"A feat I never found difficult to accomplish, given your lack of faith in me, it would seem," Erik retorted.

"What on earth moved you to decide to adopt?" he pressed, effectively disregarding Erik's accusatory manner. "And so suddenly, I might add."

"Erik had met Daniel one day while walking by the orphanage," Christine informed Amir, knowing that her husband was often reluctant to recount his own deeds of kindness. "As you saw, they made a special connection right away, one that he could not get out of his mind…or his heart. When he suggested we meet with the boy, I believed that I too would wish to adopt him, yet I was not prepared for the overwhelming sense of love that took hold of me the moment I spoke with him. Everything might have happened rather quickly, as you say, but it feels like the most right thing in the world. I now care as much for Daniel as if he were my own flesh and blood."

"There is no doubt about that," Amir agreed. "And from the way he looks at you, my dear, he feels the same way."

"I do hope so," she smiled, blushing a bit at his praise. "Yet, what kind of mother would I be if I did not see to his lunch? You and Samuel will join us I hope?"

"We would be delighted," he informed her. "Besides I seriously doubt I will be able to pry my son away from here, now that he has found a new playmate. Between his attachment to your daughter, and now your son, we might never see hide nor hair of him again!"

"He is welcome here anytime," Christine assured him. "Isn't that right, Erik."

"Of course," he nodded, then gave Amir a sly grin. "_Samuel_ is always welcome."

When Christine saw the two men exchange sour looks, she simply rolled her eyes and headed off to the kitchen, leaving the second set of _little boys_ alone in the foyer.

"Seriously, Erik…you did a good thing today," Amir admitted as they walked into the parlor and Erik poured them both a small glass of brandy. "It is quite obvious that he could not have found a more perfect home than this, considering his facial affliction."

"I admit that the moment I saw him, it was as if I were looking in a mirror and seeing myself at his age, Daroga," Erik revealed, as both men sat down in the fine leather chairs in front of the fireplace. "After we spoke, I could not sleep or eat without picturing the suffering he must be enduring, having no one to understand him or give him the love he deserved. Thankfully, my angel, Christine, saw things the same as I and we were miraculously able to bring him home, despite the apparent rules and regulations surrounding an adoption. The woman at the orphanage was amazingly kind and helpful…it didn't hurt that she was also a big fan of the opera."

"Wealth and fame does have its perks," Amir chuckled. "It shocked me to see just how much the two of you resembled each other…not only due to your…well, you know," he stated, gesturing to Erik's once again glowering face. "But the way he was trying to mimic you, in stance and attitude. You will do well to school your temper and old Opera Ghost ways…he will undoubtedly copy you at every turn, and you will want to set a good example."

"Are you insinuating that I am not a paragon of virtue, Daroga?" Erik asked, in a mocking tone, doing his best to appear offended.

"Ha! I would be hard pressed to use Erik Trouville and the word virtuous in the same sentence without choking," he scoffed. "In fact, if I did not know you better, I might be tempted to accuse you of having some dalliance and fathering the child yourself, with as much as he seems to take after you, Erik."

"I WOULD NEVER CHEAT ON CHRISTINE!" Erik bellowed, sitting forward in his chair at such an alarming rate that a bit of alcohol sloshed out of his glass and onto the rug at his feet.

"Of course you wouldn't!" Amir was quick to placate him. "Now simmer down before Christine comes in to see what I have done to upset you this time. I never meant to impugn your character or suggest that such a thing truly happened…I was just commenting on the uncanny resemblance you share with the boy, that is all."

"Well…see that you do not even _hint_ at such a thing again," Erik threatened, not quite pacified by Amir's apologetic words. "I am still in shock that I was able to find the world's most amazing angel to love, and then to be doubly blessed by the fact that she loves me in return! So the last thing I would ever do is betray her trust or throw away such perfection in a callous way. As of today, Daniel is, and will always be, my son…but I swear that I never sired him."

"Again, it was only a joke, Erik," Amir huffed.

"Well, it was a poor one," he retorted. "A very poor one indeed!"

"At least with this child you might not be so high strung," Amir continued, swiftly trying to change the subject. "You will find that having a son frees you of a lot of the worry and stress you seem to associate with having a daughter. There is so much less concern over a boy as to when he will become a man and go in search of a lovely lady." He then raised an eyebrow and looked at his masked companion suspiciously. "You didn't decide to adopt Daniel simply to get back at me for all my harmless teasing, did you?"

"The thought never crossed my mind," Erik answered in an indignant tone, suddenly very attentive to the glass of brandy in his hand.

"Hmmm," Amir mused, not quite sure if he believed him. Yet any words he meant to speak died on his lips when the back patio doors burst open and the sound of a crying boy met their ears.

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**OH NO! Was that a cliffie? Where did that come from? ha ha.**

**Yes, it would appear that I can't stop, and there will indeed be a chapter 3 of little Daniel's 'doption. ha ha.**

**So how did you like his reaction to the house. To the piano. To his room. Too his new parents?**

**What did you think of Amir and Samuel showing up and how he teased Erik about how he found out. ha ha.**

**I was shocked that Erik didn't punjab him for insinuating that Erik fathered little Daniel. AS IF!**

**So what do you think happened in the back yard? Tune in next time and find out. ha ha.**

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**MY wonderful Guest reviewers!**

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**MlleNikki:** Yah, the whole "lets write more about Daniel" thing just would NOT get out of my head! ha , I made you misty eyed? GOOD! I think I even choked myself up at the part where he came running down the stairs begging them not to leave without him. haha. OH yes, please DO read my other stories - if they interest you. But without an account or me still posting chapters I don't know how I will be able to respond to you! But I promise I will GET each review and love it! So making an account would be the best I think. ha ha. Thanks! FP33

**Guessst:** It kind of did, didn't it? See what Anna started? He is passing on the love she showed him to another that is in need of it. Amir better NOT make any jokes here... And I know he would never make fun of the boy or his face, but one mention of Erik growing a heart or something would be just as deadly. haha. He will get punjabbed for sure! Erik's protective Daddy senses are on overload. Everyone keeps asking for a "grown up kids" chapter...but I am not sure if I have that in me...we will have to see. Thanks!

**Alicia:** Hmmmm ANOTHER request for a chapter with the kids all grown up...we will see. I don't have anything planned for that at the moment...but we will see. Thanks for the review and request! FP33

**Brittney:** I am so happy you liked it! Little Erik was my favorite part too, he was such a cutie to write...I think that is why little Daniel moves me so much. He reminds me of our Erik as a child. I am so happy the paper swan worked out as well as it did. I didn't realize when I first started how it would be so interwoven throughout the story and be such an icon. Once I was done with the whole thing I had to go on line to Youtube and learn how to fold one just so I could make it for the book cover. haha. Oh I have no immediate plans to stop writing. It is my most favorite hobby! And best of all, it costs nothing to do! Well, I do spend a lot of TIME on it, but no money to speak of. haha. I hope you will enjoy my next one - as well as the other four I have already finished on my FF page. Go look! Thanks, FP33

**PhantomChristine:** I am with you. I would have taken him home in an instant. And of course I will give you more about the little boy...don't you dare pull a Daniel sad face on me! I would might be the death of me. ha ha I will see what I can do about fulfilling the rest of your wishes...but don't hold your breath. ha ha.

**Happy Dance:** 46 - I too enjoy that Erik and Anna have such a close relationship even after all these years. Erik is a good friend and he protects those who he likes...Monique getting her job back is a prime example. Go ahead, wrap Erik up and protect him...as for the never letting go...we will see how long he can handle THAT. ha ha. 47 - Yep, Charles is quite pleased that he got a job where his daughter works. Walrus..ha ha, funny! Of course the boys would protect Anna! No more life raft for Charles, he is squarely on board. 48 - Well...Erik IS the Opera Ghost, so the connection IS there, if people would just look, ha ha. I am glad you liked the wedding. 49 - Thanks for finding it tasteful. I could not let Erik think he got away with that whole bathtub scene! 50 - ha ha, you must have looked a sight! ha ha. Erik does seem to have it all...except a son...maybe he can get THAT too with little Daniel. 51 - Ummmm, YES I am trying to kill you all with adorableness. ha ha. So happy you liked the chapter, I have had several really positive reviews on it. OH yes, there was no way Erik was leaving without his little boy. He would have slept at the orphanage if the woman had not let them take him home. I am very happy to give out bonus chapters and interact with my wonderful readers! I will not apologize for the cliff hangers though...I do them on purpose! ha ha. I do hope my modern day one goes well, I am rather partial to period stories myself, but I will try anything once...twice if I like it. ha ha. Thanks so much. FP33

**Mystery:** Oh it is not quite closure yet...ha ha. I just can't stop! I was pretty pleased with how chapter 51 turned out as well. I even had my husband in tears reading it...and he swore he was not going to cry this time, ha ha. OR...you just know my writing style so well now that you KNEW that was what I would write...or it was just a very good guess. Oh, no, I loved your last comparison! That was so sweet!


	53. Appendices 3 Sugar and Spice

**Here is the final chapter of little Daniel.**

**I hope you enjoy it.**

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**Guest Reviews are at the end of the chapter.**

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**Seeing is Believing**

**Appendices #3**

**Sugar and Spice, and Everything Nice**

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"Papa! Come quick," Samuel's little voice was heard to say, causing both men to spring from their chairs and race towards the plaintive cry.

When they arrived in the grand hallway they saw Samuel and Daniel walking in from the backyard, the taller boy with his arm around the smaller one, as if assisting him. Daniel was in tears, his lower lip sticking out and quivering as he cried. It did not take long for both men to see the reason, for his trouser leg was pulled up and there was a trickle of blood oozing from a small wound on his right knee.

"Daniel jumped out of the swing when it was going too high and fell down," Samuel reported, still doing all he could to comfort his friend.

Christine must have heard the commotion from the kitchen, because she burst into the room just then, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as her mothering eyes searched for the source of the tears.

"Oh, my little darling!" she gasped, seeing the pain on her little boy's face and rushing to him.

"Calm yourself, Christine," Erik instructed, doing his best to quiet his own frantic heart. He knew it was only a scrape, and that boys would be boys, but still, he too had to fight back the panic that had risen to his chest. He had lived through worse…_much worse_…and the last thing he wanted to do was overdramatize a simple scraped knee, allowing the little boy to retain some of his dignity. "He will need to be bandaged up, but I am certain he will survive."

"But he is bleeding!" Christine wailed, grabbing hold of Daniel under both arms and lifting him up to sit on the study table by the wall. She then knelt down in front of him and began to apply gentle pressure to the wound with her tea towel. "Erik, go fetch the medical kit…immediately!"

"Will he be all right?" Samuel asked, coming to stand next to Christine, obviously worried over the welfare of his friend. "He jumped from really, really high."

As if some sort of transformation instantly came over her, Christine turned from overwrought parent to soothing mother in one swift stroke. It was one thing to be fearful and worried for her child, it was quite another to worry a child by her fears.

"Daniel will be just fine," she guaranteed the boy, being sure to give the still whimpering one a comforting smile as well. "We will put a bandage on this scrape and then he will be good as new. Why don't you go into the kitchen and see about getting him a treat for being such a brave little patient? I think you will find some leftover rose biscuits in the tin on the counter…assuming Erik has not gotten to them first," she added with a hint of a smile.

Samuel was off like a shot, happy to be the bringer of sweets for his wounded friend. Erik returned then with the medical kit, an item that he insisted upon having on hand for emergencies such as these. It had come in handy during their early days together, and since then they both saw the usefulness of keeping it around. Today, it would seem, was no exception.

All the while, Daniel had begun to calm himself, possibly realizing that he was not going to die after all, and that he now had two kind adults looking after his welfare. When Christine had smiled at him, it was as if she had miraculously taken away all the pain and he was now mesmerized by her gentle touch and caring voice.

"I am going to put some medicine on your cut, and it might sting for just a moment," she warned, dripping some of the liquid from a glass bottle onto a piece of cotton. "Can you be a brave boy for me while I do it?"

Daniel bit down on his bottom lip with a touch of fear in his eyes, but after looking up at Erik and receiving a nod of confidence, he bobbed his own head up and down bravely. When the cotton touched his skin, he did give a sharp hiss, but he showed his mettle and held true to his word.

Erik could not have been more proud!

"There, all done," Christine told him, leaning in to blow on his knee to help stop the sting. She then wrapped a piece of gauze around the wound to keep it clean, before standing up and giving him a kiss on his mangled little cheek. "You were a very brave boy, Daniel."

Christine turned to shut the medical kit and missed the look of pure wonderment that came over the boy's face, his hand reaching up to touch where her lips had just been. Erik, however, had caught it all, realizing from his actions that perhaps that had been the very first time anyone had ever dared bestow a kiss upon his mangled face…perhaps his first kiss _ever._ It was obvious that Madame Leffere cared for Daniel, just as she cared for all those in her charge…yet perhaps kisses and displays of affection were limited due to the amount of children who came in and out the orphanage door. Forming attachments to the children would eventually lead to heartache, so keeping a somewhat professional distance might be the only way to avoid such pain. Either way, Daniel now looked at Christine the same way Erik had once gazed at Anna, when she had first proved her affection for him. There was no doubt in his mind that to Daniel, Christine was now nothing less than perfect…something Erik had known for years.

His thoughts were broken by Samuel returning from the kitchen, empty handed and looking quite upset.

"The tin is empty," he reported, eyeing Erik suspiciously. "All the rose biscuits are gone!"

At that, two more pairs of eyes met Erik's, giving him a condemning stare.

"How was I to know we would have need of some treats to soothe a scraped knee?" he asked in his defense. "They are my favorite too, you know."

"Come along, boys," Christine said with an amused shake of her head, lifting Daniel down from the table and helping him tug his trouser leg back in place. "We will go see if we can find some other kind of sweets to make up for the missing biscuits." And with one final grin towards the two men, she left holding each boy by the hand.

.

.

Once they had gone, Amir turned and looked at Erik, raising his eyebrow at his friend.

"Am I not allowed to consume my own food in my own house?" Erik further asked, still sounding rather offended by all the accusatory glares.

"Not with a little boy in the house, you're not," Amir laughed. "Get used to it, Erik…your life is about to change. And here you thought you had it easy with Julianna."

"_My life_ is not the only one about to be turned upside down," Erik informed his smug friend, wishing to wipe that goofy grin off his face. "I hate to tell you this, but Monique is going to be giving birth to a daughter this time. A baby girl, Daroga…what do you think of that?"

"H-h-how could you know?" the Persian sputtered, suddenly all tense from Erik's words. "You are only guessing!"

"Am I?" Erik pressed. "Have you not noticed the way your wife is carrying this child as opposed to the way she looked with Samuel? Christine carried high, and last time Monique carried low, yet note how elevated this new baby appears to sit. It is more than obvious that you will soon be the father of a pretty little girl. One with Monique's green eyes and slender, dancer's body. I guarantee it!" When Amir's mouth fell open and his eyes began to dart around, as if trying desperately to think of an argument against it, Erik could not help but drive in the knife of fear even further. "And by the size of her…it could easily be twins."

"T-t-two girls?" Amir gasped, all the air suddenly exiting his lungs, leaving him a bit light headed and in a full state of panic. "Monique would never be so treacherous as to afflict me with _two_ little girls…would she?"

"I have never known your wife to have a mean-spirited bone in her body," Erik admitted. "Yet, I hardly think she is doing such a wicked thing to you on purpose. She was kind enough to bless you with a son first…yet I have no doubt that the fickle hand of fate has seen fit to send you _girls_ this time." Erik made sure to put the stress on the plural form of the word, making the Persian cringe even more.

"Erik…you do know how to lay a man low!" Amir almost wailed, storming towards the door in a huff. "Give my apologies to Christine about lunch, I will not be staying. I will be back for Samuel after dinner." He then threw open the door, intent on exiting, but instead came face to face with Anna and Charles, poised to knock, the doting grandmother holding little Julianna in her arms.

"Monsieur Dessan," Charles greeted, apparently surprised to see him. "Leaving so soon? We have only just arrived."

"Yes, I fear I must be going," Amir apologized, stepping past the confused couple. "I am off to beg my wife not to treat me in such a horribly unforgiving manner!" Then he was gone, hurrying down the sidewalk, mumbling to himself all the way.

"Erik," Anna began, her voice low and full of suspicion. "What did you do?"

"ME?" Erik asked in a hurt tone. "Why would you assume I did anything?"

"Because every time we see that poor man in a snit, it is usually over something you have done or said," Charles replied, unable to hide the smirk on his face as he did.

"It is Monique who is going to give birth to a girl child, thus putting undue stress on that old fool's heart," Erik defended himself. "You can hardly blame me for THAT!"

"Ahhh, but must you point it out to him?" Anna was now chuckling as well. "You should allow the poor man to come to that realization himself….when the blessed day arrives."

"A few extra weeks of worry will hardly have much effect on his already greying hair," Erik said with a snort of derision. He was saved from any further scolding by his little girl, who reached out her arms to him.

"Da!" she called, making it clear that she wished for him to hold her.

"Ahhh, my little Jewel," Erik cooed, only too happy to take her from her grandmother. "Did you miss your father?"

"Da, no!" she insisted, patting her little hands on his still masked face. It shocked him that no matter which one he chose to wear, she still knew it was him beneath it…and she hated them all equally.

"I see you are wearing your mask for special occasions," Anna said, instantly curious as to why. "Did you have a meeting with some new clients today?"

"Something like that," Erik nodded, placing a kiss on his daughter's velvety cheek. "Yet, perhaps it is best if Christine was here to inform you of the joyous news as well."

"Joyous news?" Charles repeated, his face lighting up in a look of happy expectation. "Are we perhaps to be grandparents again?"

Erik was saved from having to answer that by the sound of laughter ringing from the direction of the kitchen as two little boys burst into the room, followed by a smiling Christine.

"We found one!" Daniel announced, holding up a tasty looking rose biscuit for Erik to see. Yet when he noticed the little girl in Erik's arms, as well as the older couple standing nearby, he skidded to a halt and grew very quiet.

"Mother…Father!" Christine greeted, her eyes lighting up with excitement over the prospect of sharing her wonderful news. "How fortunate that you are here!"

"Oh, and why is that?" Anna asked, her eyes darting from her daughter to the unfamiliar little boy standing beside Samuel. It didn't take her long to assess the situation and after only a few moments she felt the sting of tears threatening to fall. "Erik…have you and Christine…" was all she found she could ask.

"Anna, Charles," Erik began, walking over and kneeling down beside the still frightened looking little boy. "May I present to you, Daniel Trouville…_our son_."

"Your son?" Charles gasped, yet all Anna could do was release a sob of joy.

"We are adopting him," Christine explained, though she was certain that her parents had already figured that part out. She then spoke to the little boy in question. "Daniel, these are _my_ parents…making them your grandmother and grandfather."

"Oh, my darling little boy!" Anna cried, going down on one knee. "Would you allow me to give you a hug?" She then stretched out her arms, eager to hold the little boy in her arms, one who reminded her so very much of Erik when he was younger.

Again Daniel looked nervous; he had met so many new people this day and was quite overwhelmed at how each one had been so accepting of him. He was about to look to his new mother and father for direction when Samuel leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"Go ahead…she is very nice and she bakes the best sweets too," his childish assurance giving Daniel all the confidence he needed.

With a hesitant smile, he walked forward and allowed the pleasant looking woman to engulf him in a very warm embrace.

"It is uncanny how much you remind me of Erik as a little boy," she told him, tears of joy now streaming down her face. "And it would appear that you have already formed a love for rose biscuits as well. They were always_ his_ favorite."

"Welcome to the family, son," Charles chimed in. "It is about time we got some new male blood. Erik and I have been sorely outnumbered by women until now!"

"Oh, Father," Christine laughed, touched at how quickly they seemed to be accepting Daniel. She knew they would, of course, but the swiftness of their doing so truly touched her heart. "I never heard you or Erik complain about this before."

"And why should we?" Erik spoke up, jostling Julianna in his arms just a bit to make her giggle. "As beautiful as our women are, we would be hard pressed to find any complaint."

"Daniel, I hope in time you will feel comfortable enough to call me Grandmother," Anna told the little boy, once she had finally released him from her hold.

"And I would be honored if you thought of me as your Grandfather as well," Charles insisted. "We can't wait to get to know you better."

Daniel knew he should answer, but he was suddenly speechless from all the love that was being bestowed upon him. He knew nothing of these people who were welcoming him into their family, yet just knowing they were related to the pretty lady who wanted to be his new mommy, gave him the courage to agree.

"Hello, Grandmother," he officially greeted the lady on her knees before him, as he shyly kissed her on the cheek. This caused Anna to let loose another tearful gasp as she felt her heart melt. He then stepped away and extended his hand to Charles. "Hello, Grandfather."

"What a polite young man you have here," the older man laughed as he took his offered hand and shook it. "I see he takes after my daughter in that respect," he added in a teasing tone.

"Daniel, there is someone else I would like you to meet," Erik spoke up, ignoring Charles' little dig. He was still kneeling down at the boy's level and little Julianna remained in his arms, now wide eyed and unusually quiet in the face of all the excitement. At Erik's words, Daniel returned to his side, staring at the beautiful blond girl as if she was the most fascinating thing in the world. "This is your sister, Julianna." He then turned to his daughter and added, "Julianna…meet your new brother…Daniel."

"Da!" the little girl spoke up, pointing at the boy in front of her, a wide grin spreading over her face. "Da!"

"She…she is trying to say my name!" Daniel crowed with pleasure, feeling as if she were indeed accepting him into the fold the only way she knew how. "Yes, little baby…I am Daniel."

"Da!" she repeated, stretching out her arms and grabbing hold of his shirt sleeves, pulling him in close enough to plant a very wet and slobbery kiss on his cheek. This made the little boy burst into giggles as he pulled away and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"She does that a lot," Samuel informed him with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "I keep telling her that boys don't like to be kissed, but she never listens."

"I think she is nice," Daniel insisted, still a bit red in the face from her display of affection, yet unwilling for anyone to say anything against his new little sister. From what he had read in books, it was a brother's job to defend and protect his younger siblings, and he intended to take that job very seriously. He then held out his hand, offering her the rose biscuit he had earned. "Would you like it, Julianna? It is the last one."

"Da!" she squealed, taking it from him and cramming as much of it as she could into her little mouth.

"Something tells me she is going to enjoy having a big brother," Christine laughed as Erik did his best to halt the number of crumbs falling from his daughter's mouth onto the floor. "And Daniel, that was very sweet of you to give her your well-deserved treat."

"Well, if a lack of sweets is the issue, how about we go into the kitchen and whip up a fresh batch?" Anna suggested, eager to spend time with her two grandchildren. "I think by now I could bake them in my sleep!"

"And they would still turn out just as delicious," Erik nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he once again recalled the very first time the two of them had made the delightful confections.

"Would you like to come with us, little one?" Anna asked as she reached for Julianna. The little girl, knowing that her grandmother was always willing to spoil her with good things to eat, went willingly.

"And tell me, lad, what exactly did you do that earned you the last rose biscuit in the house?" Charles asked, reaching down to offer the child his hand.

"He skinned his knee and was a brave boy when they put the burning medicine on it!" Samuel piped up, making sure that he was not left out of the fun or conversation. He then took hold of Charles' other hand and the five of them headed towards the kitchen, listening as both boys took turns recounting the tale of how Daniel jumped out of the swing when it was going very, very high.

.

.

Erik and Christine were left alone in the foyer, both of them unable to wipe the smiles off their faces. Moving to his side, she took hold of her husband's arm and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you, Erik," she whispered.

"For what?" he asked, sounding a bit confused.

"For everything!" she told him with a laugh. "For our life together, for our daughter, for our new son…and most of all, for loving me."

"Loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done, Christine," Erik assured her, turning around and taking her into his arms. "You have no idea what joy you have brought to my dark existence. Every moment of happiness, every smile and every laugh I owe to you. Even those five people in the kitchen are in my life because of you."

"Well, I can hardly take credit for Samuel," she giggled, laying her cheek against his chest and snuggling in.

"Not necessarily," Erik mused. "If not for you, and how your love has mellowed me, I fear I would have killed the Daroga long ago, effectively snuffing out all hope for his progeny."

"Erik!" she scolded, trying to sound serious…and failing. "You would no sooner harm Amir than I would. He is your best friend, and you know it."

"Do I?" he asked, pulling back and giving her a wry grin.

Knowing she would never extract the answer she desired, Christine instead gave up and just continued to hold him.

"What would you have done if Madame Leffere had not agreed to let Daniel come home with us?" she asked after a few moments of silence, suddenly unable to even contemplate not having him there with them.

"I would have snuck back in the orphanage once it got dark and kidnapped the boy, of course," he answered in such a matter of fact way that it caused Christine to pull away and look at him in shock.

"Erik, you are not serious!" she gasped.

"I _am _the Opera Ghost after all," he reasoned. "And the Phantom is not dead…he has only been hibernating."

"Erik!" Her tone was now one of pure disbelief.

"Come now, my angel," Erik chuckled, once more pulling her to him in a reassuring manner. "I would have done no such thing. Yet there was a very strong possibility I would have taken up residence at the establishment until we could take him home, simply to protect him from any more bullying."

"Now _that _I can believe," she laughed, so proud of the man Erik had become.

Just then the kitchen door burst open and little Daniel came running out, grabbing both their hands and tugging at them to follow.

"Come on," he begged. "Grandmother says that she needs you to read the recipe to her or she can't make the rose biscuits!"

"And I thought she said she could make them in her sleep?" Erik laughed.

"She said that she can only do it with your help when she is awake!" the little boy insisted. "Please come help! Julianna wants more of them too, and I don't want her to cry!"

"Well now, if both our children require rose biscuits, who are we to deny them," Erik laughed, taking Christine by the hand as they followed the persistent Daniel back into the kitchen, the room ringing with laughter and love for many hours to come.

.

.

When dinner time arrived and Amir had yet to return, Samuel was only too happy to stay and share in another meal with them. The rose biscuits had been baked to perfection and everyone, even Erik, was able to eat their fill after supper. Yet when Charles and Anna had finally decided to give the new family some alone time and left for home, Amir had still not come to fetch his son. Christine suggested that perhaps he and Monique simply wanted a night to themselves, but something about the whole situation was bothering Erik.

"He would not have chosen Daniel's first night here to foist his son off on us," he reasoned. He had since removed his rubber mask and replaced it with one of his breathable leather ones, opting to ease Daniel into the sight of his fully unmasked face tomorrow. "I think it would be wise for us to ask George to hitch up the carriage and drive us over to check on them."

"If you are that concerned," Christine nodded, knowing that if Erik was wanting to purposefully seek out Amir's company, it had to be for a good reason. "I will go tell the boys to get ready and then we will go."

Less than half an hour later, the five of them were heading through the streets of Paris on their way to Amir and Monique's modest little flat. Erik had offered multiple times to design and build a bigger and better place for the growing family, yet so far, Amir had declined. He had become rather attached to the apartment he had lived in after moving from Persia, and since Monique showed no signs of wishing to move, they had remained put.

Once they arrived, they left George with the carriage while Erik, Christine, Julianna and the boys headed up the steps to Amir's apartment. Samuel was not used to having to knock on his own door and was a bit put off at being made to wait to be admitted. Yet, when the door opened, it was the surprised face of Darius, and not Amir, that greeted them.

"M-m-monsieur Trouville," he stammered, having never quite gotten over his underlying fear of the intimidating man behind the mask. When he saw that he was not alone, Darius quickly stepped aside, allowing Christine and the children to enter. "Please, come in! I fear I must apologize for being the one to cause you to be out so late. For Master Dessan asked me to send a message to you by courier, explaining his delay in fetching the boy...but with all the excitement, I fear that it completely slipped my mind."

"What excitement?" Christine asked, shifting her sleeping daughter to the other hip in an effort to find a comfortable position.

"Why, the birth of the baby, of course," the skittish servant explained, as if such news was common knowledge.

"The baby is here?" Samuel asked, jumping up and down and clapping his hands.

"That is correct, Master Samuel," Darius laughed, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair in an affectionate manner. "The doctor has been here for many hours now but I do believe the blessed event has at last taken place."

"Is Monique all right?" Christine asked, suddenly worried for her friend. "She was not due for a few more weeks yet. Is there any danger that the baby has come early?"

"Children arrive when they see fit, Christine," Erik told her, doing his best to calm his wife, while masking his own concerns as well. "I am certain that the Daroga and Monique simply miscalculated the due date...this is Amir we are talking about, after all."

Christine was about to scold Erik for making jokes at his friend's expense, especially on a special occasion such as this, but the sight of the doctor coming down the stairs made her lose her train of thought.

"Oh, if it isn't the Trouville family, how nice to see you again," the elderly man commented as he reached the bottom of the steps and headed over to them. Having been the same doctor who delivered Julianna, as well as Samuel, he was quite familiar with them all. "I see you have arrived just in time to greet the newest Dessan." He then looked down at the smiling boy, eagerly waiting to hear anything about his new sibling. "It would appear that you are now a big brother, Samuel. Congratulations."

"Is it a boy?" he asked. "Papa was sure it was going to be a boy!"

"I think that is news that I should allow your parents to deliver," he laughed, knowing full well when to keep his mouth shut. "It won't be long before you know if you have a brother or a sister." He then turned and looked at Erik and Christine, eyeing the sleeping girl with a broad smile. "And how is _your_ little princess doing, Madame Trouville?"

"She is just fine," Christine assured him, shifting slightly so that the doctor could get a better look at her. "Perfectly healthy and growing like a weed."

"I can tell," he nodded. "It appears she has sprouted several inches since I last saw her." It was then that he spotted the shy little boy peeking out from behind Erik's pant leg and the kindly doctor was instantly intrigued. "Is this by chance little Daniel?" he asked, bending down a bit, so as to appear less frightening. "Do you remember me, boy?"

"Y-y-yes, sir," Daniel responded, recalling the kindly man who gave out peppermint sticks when he came to check on the children at the orphanage.

"My wife and I are in the process of adopting Daniel, Dr. Brun," Erik explained, not waiting for him to ask the question that was bound to follow.

"Splendid!" the doctor replied. "I commend you both on your generous spirit and open hearts. I can't imagine the boy finding a better home than with the two of you. I have complete confidence _you_ will treat him with love and dignity, something I had often worried he might never find."

"You can be assured of it, Doctor," Erik nodded. The kindhearted man had long since earned the confidence of everyone in his family and Erik and he had many long discussions about the damage to his face and how it might have been caused. While the doctor had revealed that great things were being accomplished in the field of skin grafting, it was with much reluctance that he admitted they would most likely not be of any help to Erik. The scarring was far too extensive and with as thin as his skin was in places, Dr. Brun feared that it simply would not take hold. However, perhaps such techniques might be of some help in Daniel's case, and he made a mental note to ask about that at a later time…when the boy was not standing right there listening.

"Would it be all right for us to go up and see Monique and the baby?" Christine asked, pulling the doctor's attention away from Erik and Daniel.

"I am sure they would love a visit…but do not stay too long, I think all three of them could use the rest," he advised.

"Of course, doctor," Christine nodded.

"I'd best be going now," Dr. Brun told them all as he made his way to the door. "If I don't get home soon, my wife will forget what I look like and lock me out of the house." And with a friendly wave, he was gone.

Christine turned towards one of the comfortable looking sofas in the sitting room, and laid the sleeping Julianna down as gently as possible. The little girl fussed a bit but did not wake, and after asking Darius to keep an eye on her she headed for the stairs.

"Can I come too?" Samuel asked, eager to see his newest little playmate.

"I think it is best if we first tell your parents you are home," Erik told the boy, recalling how the miracle of birth tended to be rather...well, messy. He did not want the child to walk in on something that might traumatize him for life. "Wait here with Daniel and I will send your father down to fetch you, all right?"

"I will watch over the little ones, Monsieur Trouville," Darius assured him, having been Samuel's surrogate guardian ever since he was born.

With a nod of gratitude the two adults headed upstairs, leaving the now sulking Samuel behind. Thankfully, Daniel was only too willing to provide his new friend with the distraction of playing tour guide around his house, leaving very little for Darius to do other than make sure they stayed out of trouble.

.

.

Christine knocked softly on the door to the master suite and when she heard a voice give permission to enter she did so slowly and with caution. When she saw that Monique was sitting up in bed, looking a bit harried, yet decent, she motioned to Erik that it was safe to follow.

"We were told that congratulations are in order," she told her friend with a smile as she hurried over to the bed and sat down, taking Monique's hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. "If I had known you had gone into labor I would have come immediately!"

"Everything happened rather suddenly; in fact the doctor barely had time to get here before the baby came." Monique replied with a very tired looking smile. "Besides, just knowing that you were taking care of Samuel, and that he was not underfoot or having to worry through all of this, eased my mind."

"I am glad to have been of _some_ help then," Christine nodded, suddenly looking around the room as she searched for the newborn. When she spied Amir, sitting in a rocking chair near the window, there was suddenly no doubt where the baby lay. For the look of pure adoration on the Persian's face made it clear he was gazing down at his newest child. "May I ask if it is a boy or a girl?"

"It…I mean _she_, is a girl," Amir answered as he rose from his seat and made his way over to stand at the foot of the bed. "A perfectly adorable little girl."

"Just as I told you it would be," Erik added, not bothering to hide the smugness in his tone at all.

"Erik!" Christine scolded, giving him a stern look.

"No…you were right, Erik," Amir told him, never once taking his eyes off of his sleeping daughter. "You were right about everything."

"I…I was?" This startled Erik, for Amir hardly ever admitted that Erik was right…and certainly not about _everything_.

"It is just like you said, Erik…a daughter changes everything," Amir continued. "All I want to do is keep her safe in my arms and never let her go. To protect her from all the fear and pain of this world and be her champion from now on. Is that how _you_ feel on a daily basis with Julianna, Erik?"

"It is," he assured him, a warm feeling of love spreading through his chest as he thought of his own little girl. "And it is exhausting!"

"Oh, you men!" Christine laughed. "Listen to them, Monique. It is as if we have no hand in raising our daughters…it will all be done by them and in the most absurd manner they can possibly imagine!"

"I feel that I will soon come to have a newfound respect for you, Christine," the tired mother chuckled. "You might have to give me a few pointers on how to handle my insane husband."

While their humorous words seemed to have no affect whatsoever on Amir, it did get a raised eyebrow and a harrumph out of Erik. Yet even he could not fault his wife for her jest.

"Is there anything I could help you with, Monique? Anything you need?" Christine questioned, recalling the ordeal her friend had just gone through.

"I do hate to impose, but since you asked," she answered, looking a bit sheepish, yet hopeful. "I would really love to take a quick bath and change my clothes."

"Of course!" Christine was only too happy to be of some assistance, having missed out on the miracle of birth. "Come, let me help you to the lavatory."

"Would you like me to carry you, my precious one?" Amir quickly offered, stepping around to the side of the bed.

"No, you just continue to bond with our daughter," she told him, allowing Christine to be the one to help her to her feet. "Christine and I will be done in just a little bit, in the meantime you should go down and introduce Samuel to his new little sister. Knowing him, he is chomping at the bit to see her." Then with a loving smile tossed in the direction of both their husbands, the two women headed for the bathroom door, Monique walking gingerly all the way.

.

.

Once alone, Amir's attention was once again drawn back to the sleeping infant in his arms and his eyes took on an almost glassy stare as he watched her sleep.

"I would ask you if you wished to hold her, Erik," Amir continued. "Yet I fear that I am quite unable to relinquish her…even for only a few moments."

"That is quite understandable," Erik nodded, recalling how he too had been reluctant for anyone to hold Julianna at first as well. "Have you and Monique settled on a name?"

"Monique suggested that since we named Samuel Saeed after both our fathers…that we name this little princess after our mothers," Amir informed him. "Thus…she is to be christened, Lili Marie Dessan. It is quite fitting too, for in Persia, the name Lili means flower…and she is indeed my most treasured blossom."

"It is a very beautiful name, for such a beautiful girl," Erik commended.

Amir nodded, in full agreement…yet then his smile faded and he let loose a plaintive moan.

"Oh, Erik…what am I going to do?" he practically wailed. "I am not ready for this! I don't know what I will do when she comes of age and the young men start to come around! I will be far too old to do battle with them, to fend off those unworthy scoundrels who wish to pluck my little Lili from her protective garden!"

It was ironic to Erik that he had looked forward to this moment for quite some time, ever since he had suspected that Monique was to give birth to a female child, and yet now that it had arrived…he found no joy in it. The look of pure desperation on his friend's face only brought forth emotions of pity. How strange.

"Amir…" Erik began, placing his hand on the man's shoulder in an uncommon gesture of comfort. "You will survive this, the same way I am…one day at a time. And fear not, old man, since Julianna is a year your daughter's senior, you will have the benefit of my experience in how to handle such matters. I am sure between the two of us we will discover the best way to turn away young cads and see that our girls are protected from the wrong sort of men." His eyes then grew cold, narrowing slightly with a hint of death. "That or we can offer each other a plausible alibi for when we must murder the scoundrels and dispose of their worthless bodies!"

"Now, _that_ is the helpful Erik I have come to rely on!" Amir laughed, his whole body shaking as he released all his pent up anxiety. Unfortunately the act woke Lili and her little face began to pucker up as if she were about to cry. "Oh, no, my little flower! Don't cry…shhhhh, your Papa is here and he is sorry for startling you…don't cry!" he cooed softly, rocking her gently until she settled down and returned to her exhausted slumber. After all, spending most of the day being born had thoroughly worn the little girl out.

"Perhaps it is best we introduce Lili to your son before she wakes and requires nourishment…something, I fear, you are woefully lacking the equipment to provide," Erik told him, gesturing towards the door.

"Indeed," Amir nodded, a fresh look of panic coming over his face.

.

.

Minutes later the proud new father was kneeling down as he let his son get a good look at little Lili Marie.

"She is so tiny…even smaller than Julianna," he informed his father, reaching out to gently touch the top of her head.

"Yet in time, she will grow and be running around and wanting you to play with her just the same," Amir assured him. He then looked over at the newest Trouville and offered, "Would you like to come see her as well, Daniel?"

Eagerly he agreed and made his way over to where his friend stood. Peering down into the bundled up blankets, his little eyes grew wide with wonder.

"She is so pretty," he whispered, doing his best not to wake the sleeping angel.

And while the boy's words should have brought pride to Amir's heart, instead it caused that familiar feeling of dread to return instead. Was Daniel Trouville to be the first boy the Persian needed to worry about? He looked up at Erik, only to find his friend staring back with a smirk upon his masked face.

"Welcome to my nightmare," he told him with all seriousness.

.

.

It was at least another hour before the Trouville family left and headed for home. For Christine would not leave without getting to hold the new infant at least once and it took quite a long time before Amir would be convinced to hand her over. Yet Monique finally intervened, pulling rank as Lili's mother and insisted that her friend get her turn with the babe. Erik could not help but feel a tug of longing as he watched his wife cuddle and coo with the child, wanting nothing more than to see her cradling more of their own children the same way. Granted they had one of each, their very own son and daughter now, but he would not forget his wife's desire for a total of four. He could certainly handle that many at least…he hoped.

As they waved farewell and climbed into the carriage, their kindly stable master George never saying a word about being left out on the street for so long, they were thoroughly exhausted. Julianna was still asleep, having missed every moment of Lili's introductions to the world, and snuggled against her father's chest as he sat down. Daniel's little eyes were drooping as well and when Christine patted her lap he was only too willing to climb up and allow her to cradle him in her arms. Soon he too was sound asleep, knowing that with his new family he was both loved and protected.

"I think today was indeed full of surprises," Christine stated as the carriage headed for home.

"Two of the best, I would say," Erik agreed, reaching over and touching his new son's head affectionately, letting his fingers run through his hair as he smoothed down an out of place tuft.

"No matter what surprises life may still have to throw our way, Erik Trouville, I know we will face it together and come out smiling," she concluded, taking his hand in hers as she leaned in to kiss his willing lips.

"And all because I found a drowned little angel on the shore of my lake," Erik smiled, recalling that day which began the best chapter of his life. "I don't think you will ever understand how much you changed things for me that day, my darling. You brought hope back into my darkened world."

"Just as you did for me," she pointed out. "I think back then, we were both blind, but it was love that led us back into the light."

"I love you so very much, Christine," Erik confessed, pulling her hand up to his lips and kissing the back of it reverently.

"I love you too, Erik," she replied, tears of happiness threatening to fall. "And I promise I will never stop!"

**THE END...AGAIN!**

* * *

**Well, there you go. The end of the Daniel Chapters.**

**They are all one happy family, and MAYBE little Daniel just met his future wife! ha ha.**

**I think Anna and Charles are happy to welcome little Daniel into the fold.**

**And what did you think of Amir and his change of heart? Girls are going to be the death of those two men. **

**I have one more chapter to go (I think) with just a quick glimpse into the future when the kids are more mature. However it might take me a while to write it - things are kind of hectic at the moment, so be patient my dear readers. Just make sure you have hit 'follow author' and you will be alerted when it is posted.**

**Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews!**

**.**

**Guest Reviews:**

**Mystery:** Well I HOPE it is not as annoying as that song! Ha ha. And yes, this story WILL have an end. ha ha, I actually thought of having a flour mishap take place when they were all in the kitchen making the rose biscuits with Anna. Too funny. Oh they know how to do a good ballance of spoiling a child and just loving on them. ha ha. They will turn out fine. Well, if Amir buys Samuel a puppy, you can be sure Daniel will get one too. Daniel is very good...and quick at mimicking Erik!

**Guest:** I am glad you thought so. And you are quite welcome.

**Happy Dance:** Yep, I did have him do a few things just like Erik...I could not help myself. ha ha. Kids have very little tact and they speak the truth...Erik's face is pretty bad. ha ha. Yep, Samuel and Daniel will be buddies for life! Just like their fathers...who will still never admit it. ha ha.

**PhantomChristine: ** Oh what a pretty shade of blue you are. ha ha. Well I hope you just DID read more, ha ha. Amir was lucky that Erik didn't punjab him for what he said! Will that man never learn?

**redhouseclan:** I am glad!

**MlleNikki: ** Sorry about the cliffie...I had no other place to split it and the chapter got too long to only be in one piece. Amir and Erik will always be the best of friends who will never admit it. ha ha. They just can't help themselves. ha ha.


	54. Appendices 4 Welcome to my Nightmare

**I would like to thank you all so very much for your amazing comments and for making Seeing is Believing the most reviewed POTO story of all time. You all just blew me away with your wonderful support. **

**It has been a wild ride and I am tickled that you all chose to join my version of Erik and Christine as they traveled the road of love. **

**All my thanks, and until we meet again on another story,**

**Farewell.**

**.**

**PhantomFantasy: ** My stories go in this order of when I posted them. The Angle of Persia, Siren of the Sea, The Phantom Triumphant, Mystery Behind the Mask, Seeing is Believing. I am currently working on one now that is a modern day Erik/Christine story. Never did one of those before. But so far it is a lot of fun and I am just starting chapter 8 now. I won't post until the story is all done though, so it will be a while till anyone sees it. Hope you will check back from time to time and see when I start posting. It will be several months though...if not longer. I write slow. ha ha.

**.**

**Seeing is Believing**

**Appendices #4**

**Welcome to my Nightmare**

* * *

As Erik's eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, he knew something was terribly wrong. Yet, for the life of him, he could not recall what it was. He was home, he was in his own bed and he was not in any sort of physical pain. In fact, the warm and comforting body of his wife nestled at his side should have dispelled any such disquieting thoughts, and yet something was nagging at the back of his mind. What was it?

"Good morning, my love," Christine murmured as she too awoke and began to stir. "And how is the father of the bride feeling today?"

_And there it was!_

His own personal nightmare coming true…for today was to be Julianna's wedding day. His little Julianna…_a bride!_

Erik gave a low moan of misery and rolled over, burying his unmasked face in his pillow, wishing with all his heart he could stay in bed forever and not have to endure this day.

"That well, I see," Christine said with a sympathetic sigh, realizing just how difficult this was for her husband. Thus far he had held up admirably; smiling at the parties, offering suggestions, happily paying for every little detail his daughter had requested, and on the whole being very supportive. And yet, Christine knew that inside, Erik was torn up about the whole affair. It had been a long time coming, and she had felt sure that Erik would have long ago come to terms with his daughter growing up…yet it appeared not.

"Why?" Erik's muffled question was heard from the pillow. "Why does she have to go and marry that boy? Why can't she just remain my little girl?"

"She is not so very little anymore, Erik, and besides that…she is in love!" Christine explained for what felt like the millionth time. "Julianna is an adult now…already past eighteen, and she wants to start her own family."

"Oh, God!" Erik moaned, striking his fist against the mattress next to his head. "She will want to have children as well? That will mean she must…that she will…" _No!_ Erik could not even think such vile things! The mere thought of any man touching his precious baby in such a manner made him physically ill. How on earth had Charles survived this long knowing just what he and Christine must be doing behind closed doors? He truly pitied the man and decided to buy him something as a form of apology. Would a mansion be enough of a peace offering?

"Erik…please, you have to let this go," Christine begged, pulling on his shoulder until he rolled over and once more stared blankly at the ceiling. "Today is the most important day of your daughter's life, and thus far you have done a splendid job of putting on a good show of it. Don't let her down now by revealing your feelings of dread…it would ruin things for her. You don't want that, do you?"

"No," came his mournful reply. "I want her to be happy."

"I know you do," Christine smiled, leaning down to kiss his pouting lips. "And that is why you will get up, get dressed and give your daughter away with a smile today."

"I wish I had the foresight to construct a mask that made it look like I was smiling," he muttered. "Then I could put it on and no one would know just how much I detest this whole idea."

"Well, you didn't think to make one…so you must put forth the effort all on your own, I am afraid," Christine informed him, slipping out of the bed and putting on her dressing gown. "I will go see if Julianna is up and help her get started on her bath. Would you be a dear and see to the twins' breakfast for me?"

Erik gave a grunt of agreement, one that apparently satisfied his wife enough to leave the room, allowing him a few more moments of reflection before he was forced to begin the hardest day of his life.

It struck him as amusing that he would label today as such, choosing this occasion over all the other moments of his life as the most difficult to endure. And thinking back, there had been many events to choose from! Yet now, Erik hardly even remembered the years he had spent as a prisoner in Suzette's keeping, or his time traveling with the gypsies…or even the days and nights of hell in Persia. No…those times were in his past and that is where he chose to keep them. His days since meeting Christine had been filled with such light and joy that those evil moments no longer crossed his mind…at least not on a daily basis.

Lacing his fingers together and bringing them up behind his head, he lay there and tried to recall how this day had come about. Was there a moment in time he might have been able to alter the outcome, to somehow keep his beautiful baby girl with him for all time? However, with both his scheming wife and daughter - as well as his own son at times - working against him, he highly doubted it. Still, he would run it through his mind once more, just to be sure.

.

.

Erik knew it had all begun the first time that sinister little Samuel had begged to hold his daughter…yes, it had all started there! He should have listened to his inner voice, warning him of the danger, yet Christine had insisted it was a harmless infatuation. "All children love babies," she had said. Well,_ now_ Erik knew the truth, and the truth was that Samuel loved Julianna! Plain and simple.

As the children grew, the three of them were always together, with Daniel and Samuel watching over Julianna as if she were a sister to them both. This pleased Erik greatly, and he hoped that things would continue on in this manner as they matured.

It took a few years before Lili joined the group, for being the youngest of the four, she had a hard time keeping up with them until she reached the age of five or six. Then wherever they went…so did she, trailing along behind, begging for them to slow down. Thankfully, Julianna and Lili became thick as thieves and when the boys wished to take off and play pirate or do something that would ultimately get them covered in dirt, the girls were happy to sit in the parlor and have a tea party with their dolls. It amused Erik greatly that whenever Amir would come by and Julianna would offer him some of their tea…the Persian would eye him suspiciously and only accept a cup after the girls assured him that Erik did not have a hand in making it.

From day one, Daniel had no trouble fitting into the family and everyone instantly loved him. It took four days before Erik worked up the courage to show the boy his full, unmasked face. It had been a very stressful afternoon for him, knowing what he must do, yet dreading it so greatly. However, Daniel once more shocked and amazed Erik by his reaction to it all, acting more intrigued and thoughtful than frightened. He asked a ton of questions, wished to inspect it close up, using his little hands as he scrutinized every blemish and defect. In the end he informed Erik that his face didn't matter to him at all…repeating the very same words that Erik had used on him. All in all, it was a very emotional, yet satisfying day.

As the years marched on, and Daniel grew older, Erik could see that while the boy was extremely smart and talented, he favored art and drawing over musical endeavors. Oh, he had learned to play the piano and was quite proficient on the violin as well, but they never became his passion like they were for Erik. Yet everywhere you looked there were drawings of animals, landscapes and people, all skillfully done by the junior artist himself. Erik was beginning to wonder just how the boy might turn this talent into a career when he unknowingly made the life altering decision to take his family to the 1889 World's Fair. It was there that Daniel saw the newly built Eiffel Tower up close. Up until then, Erik had never been able to get the boy interested in architecture, even after providing him with many books on the subject and offering to take him on multiple building projects with him. Yet the moment he saw the artistry of design in the tall tower created by Monsieur Eiffel…the boy was resolute. _He had to design!_ So it was that Erik began to tutor the boy in all he knew about architecture, encouraging him to pursue more and more knowledge on the subject.

Julianna, on the other hand, took after Christine…as Erik had fully expected her to do. Music it seemed was in her blood, and long before her voice had fully developed, it was clear that she was destined to follow in her mother and grandmother's footsteps, to one day grace the stage. Christine often attributed this to the fact that not only had Julianna inherited her father's almost seductive quality in her voice, but because she had also been trained by him from such a young age. Many evenings were spent with the four of them gathered in the music room, with Daniel playing the piano for his younger sister as she practiced her scales. They were quite content with their picture of domestic bliss…that is until one day Christine announced that there was to be yet another addition to the Trouville family at last.

Once again, Erik was bursting with pride, eager to tell everyone he knew the good news…which, for Erik, was in truth a very small circle of friends. Already having a boy of twelve and a girl of nine, Erik decided it no longer mattered what sex the baby would be…yet deep down he hoped it would be a son, for they seemed to put less of a strain on his already worn nerves. However, almost as if he were being punished for teasing Amir about twin girls when Lili was born…that was exactly what the fickle hand of fate deemed to give him. Chantel and Jacqueline came into the world on a cold November night, delivered by none other than the reliable Doctor Brun. While Julianna had been born with the golden hair of her grandmother, this time the tiny twins took after their parents in this manner. Chantel had her mother's luscious, chocolate curls, while Jacqueline was blessed with the straight, raven black tresses of her father. It didn't take long before it was obvious that their coloring was not the only way the two girls differed. Chantel was quiet and shy, where Jacqueline was loud, boisterous and was almost impossible to keep still…and Erik could not have loved them more.

He was forced to endure quite a lot of ribbing from Amir, who never passed up an opportunity to point out that Erik was slowly creating his own harem. Yet even after all the guff he had to put up with, with just one look at his darling girls and Erik could not have cared less. They were healthy, they were happy and they were _his._

Christine was pleased to have met their goal of four children, just like she had always wished for, in one final shot. Especially when as more years passed, and no further children came along, it was clear that her body felt it had reached its quota. Still with Samuel and Lili always visiting and staying over, more often than not, Erik and Christine felt like they had a total of six. Amir and Monique had also come to the conclusion that two was more than enough for them, and by either fate or design, their little family remained a small but happy foursome.

And so it was that Erik and Christine raised four beautiful children, each one bringing untold joy and pride to the both of them. Over the years they had spoken to Dr. Brun about the possibility of fixing Daniel's facial deformity, yet since the procedure to do so was still new and in the experimental stages, they eventually decided against it. Erik had kept his word and perfected an easily applied flesh-like patch to hide most of Daniel's disfigurement, allowing the lad to go out in public without even a hint of fear. Yet, just like Erik, he always removed it when he was around friends and family, and no one ever cared a bit.

By the time Daniel and Samuel reached the age of eighteen, they were inseparable and their relationship was stronger than that of most brothers. All through school they had stood up for one another, watching the other's back whenever there was the danger of bullies to contend with. Neither boy was overly muscular, yet Erik had seen to it that they were well trained in defense, making sure they could hold their own in a fight. Amir on the other hand instructed them in the art of defusing a tense situation with words, often showing them how to use humor to lighten the mood or escape it completely. With both tactics under their belts, Daniel and Samuel were well equipped to face whatever life threw their way.

They were both very popular among their peers, as well as their teachers, for they received instruction both at school and at home. Erik had deemed it important that his children, and Amir's as well, take in a working knowledge of many subjects, most of which were not offered in the normal curriculum. He insisted that they all learn the fundamentals of science and biology, as well as how to speak and read English…not to mention Christine's native tongue from Sweden. Not to be outdone, Amir took his turn and schooled them in learning the speech of his homeland, Persia. All in all, they were very well rounded children, educationally speaking.

Yet neither set of parents were prepared for when, after graduation, the two boys announced their wish to attend college in all places…America! Unbeknownst to their parents, they had secretly applied to the Ivy League school of Princeton, having kept it between themselves until their acceptance letters had arrived. Daniel was excited about the excellent art and architectural programs they offered, as well as the thrill of studying abroad and exploring a new country. Samuel, on the other hand, who had yet to settle on a chosen career, was mainly going to be near his friend - while hopefully discovering what it might be that interested him. Either way, their minds were made up and their hearts were set on Princeton, and nothing anyone could say would convince them otherwise.

So it was, with heavy hearts, that Erik, Christine and their three girls found themselves at the Port of Bayonne, just outside of the city of Toulouse, waving farewell to their beloved son and brother as he boarded a ship bound for America. Amir, Monique and Lili were equally sad to see Samuel go, yet equally proud of the boys just the same. It would be four long years before their sons made their way back home, now grown men of twenty-two with many stories to tell…both good and bad.

From the regular letters they sent home, it was evident that both of them had taken to college life like ducks to water. It was also clear that they were rather popular with the ladies, and the retelling of the parties and dances they attended with girls from their sister school often left Christine worried for her son's reputation, as any good mother would. Yet where Samuel appeared to never settle on any one particular girl, Daniel, it seemed, had developed a deep affection for a local debutant named Evelyn Vanpatten, the daughter of a wealthy banker. It was through his friend's budding relationship that Samuel became acquainted with the girl's father, and an interest in finances took root. Soon he had switched his major and was taking classes in anything pertaining to that field, be it bookkeeping, stocks, funds or investments.

Unfortunately, Daniel's relationship was doomed to failure, for though Evelyn was lovely in form and very popular among her peers, her underlying personality left much to be desired. And in a moment of heartfelt devotion, where Daniel had deemed her worthy to reveal his darkest secret…the girl had been found sadly lacking. Upon learning the true condition of his face, the courtship was terminated and Evelyn severed all ties with him. Devastated and humiliated, Daniel threw himself into his studies, centering all his focus on school in order to ease the pain of a broken heart. Thankfully, Samuel was there to pick up the pieces and see that his friend did not wallow in despair, keeping him busy and entertained until their graduation later that year.

Being the type of parents who would never miss their son's graduation, it was decided that Erik, Christine, Amir and Monique would sail to America, attend their commencement ceremonies and accompany them on the trip back home. Unfortunately, Julianna was enrolled in a prestigious music class and Lili, who was attending ballet school, could not afford to take the many weeks off it would have taken to compleete the voyage. So the girls offered to remain at home in France and watch over the twins - with the help of Anna and Charles, of course, who had since moved into the Trouville home due to advancing age.

Upon their return to France, the two young men were given a hero's welcome, and a very lavish party was thrown in their honor. It saddened Erik to see how Daniel, though seemingly just as outgoing as ever, appeared to now shy away from the opposite sex. Not even glancing at many of the young ladies who were so desperate to catch his eye. The girl in America had apparently wounded him deeply, and Erik made a mental note to speak with him about it…_soon._

However, Samuel did not seem to be suffering from the same affliction and paid more than the usual amount of attention to a certain lady at the party. The trouble was, _that girl was Julianna!_ Ever since they had stepped off the boat, it would seem the young man had eyes only for her. They had greeted one another politely, renewing their old friendship with the customary hug and a kiss on the cheek, and yet in their eyes, Erik immediately saw the spark of change. It was also that very night that Samuel ceased referring to Erik as his uncle, and now addressed him with a respectful 'sir'.

It was then that Erik's unease began to grow.

.

.

As the days continued, so did Samuel and Julianna's affection for one another, until it was more than clear that this was no passing fancy. The two spent every waking moment together, either at her house or his, closely chaperoned at all times. Daniel and Lili were the ones to shoulder the bulk of this assignment, seeing how they were inclined to attend the same parties and functions that the other young couple were invited to. Yet it was Erik who would sit in the parlor when they frequented his home, watching the two lovebirds like a hawk from behind his newspaper. He kept his eyes peeled for any slip of propriety, any moment of weak resolve where the boy would show his true colors, thus allowing Erik to toss him out of the house – much like he had often done to his father in the past. However, not once did Samuel appear to tempt Julianna with affections too great, or words too seductive…so Erik never found a valid reason to eject him.

And so it went, with Erik's trepidation growing to monumental proportions, much like the jests and quips heaped upon him by Amir. Oh, it seemed to please the Persian to no end that his son was now officially wooing Erik's daughter, and he was not shy in telling him so either.

"Come, come, old man," Amir would say, slapping him on the back in good sport. "If your little girl must marry, why not with my son? It will successfully unite our families just as we always wanted, will it not?"

"I believe that to be _your_ personal fantasy, Daroga," Erik growled back, stepping away from him in an effort to lessen the desire to strangle him. _It did not help. _"I am quite content to never have your family and mine mixed in any fashion."

"Erik…if I did not know you better, I would be seriously wounded by your words," Amir retorted, looking almost hurt by his offensive statement. "Thankfully, I am of the jovial nature and will overlook your surly attitude on the subject. For I think it is a marvelous match and I will not be swayed to think otherwise."

And true to his word, he never did change his mind. Not once passing up an opportunity to invite Julianna and her family over for dinner, or out to some function. He was literally bending over backwards to ingratiate himself and his family to the Trouvilles.

Erik did his best to ignore it all.

.

.

Then the dreaded day arrived, the one he had been hoping to avoid since the moment Samuel came back from America. Julianna had invited him over for dinner, and while her doing so was nothing out of the ordinary, the way everyone was acting certainly was. Daniel and Samuel kept exchanging side glances with each other. Erik saw his daughter place her hand over the boy's in a comforting gesture more times than he cared for, and even his wife and Chantel were more subdued than normal that evening. If it had not been for the constant chatter from Jacqueline, the room might have been as silent as a tomb.

When Erik could take it no longer he announced that he was full, refused to partake of dessert and excused himself from the table. Wishing for nothing more than to barricade himself in his study, he did just that, picking up one of the many books Daniel had sent him from America over the past four years. Both he and his son had always shared a love of good literature, and when packages began to arrive from Princeton filled with new and exciting titles, Erik had been delighted. His favorites had been the works of a colorful author by the name of Mark Twain. Erik had devoured every one of his works thus far, and was currently making his way through 'The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg'. It was an amusing satire on how even the most honest of people could be tempted to do wrong, if presented with enough encouragement. Erik quickly became engrossed in the tale, making certain the door was properly locked before divesting himself of his confining mask.

Unfortunately, his wish to be left alone would sadly go unfulfilled. Once again he was thwarted by his conniving wife, for a short time later she knocked on the door, asking if he would let her in. Knowing there was no denying her, he rose and unlocked it for her to enter. Yet when the knob turned and the door opened, it was not Christine that stepped into the room…_but Samuel._

"What do you want?" Erik all but growled, turning away quickly so that the boy did not have to stare at his now unmasked face. He knew that Samuel had seen it before, but still, it always unnerved Erik when he was put on display. Heading back to his chair, he grabbed his book and opened it up, placing it in front of his face as a shield. He hoped the boy would take the hint and leave, but just like his father, Samuel foolishly pressed on.

"I must speak with you, sir," he began, walking over to where Erik sat, not sure if he should sit or remain standing. If a fast getaway was needed, standing would offer him the quickest means of escape. "I have come to ask you for…"

"Stop!" Erik barked, causing the poor boy to step back in fear. "I know exactly what you are here to ask and before you say another word, there are a few things I wish to ask _you_." He closed the book with a loud thump and put it on the stand beside him, interlacing his fingers and placing them over his midsection as his thumbs tapped together in irritation. If it was the boy's intention to put Erik through this hell, then it was only fair that Erik exact the appropriate amount of torment from him as well. "Sit down," he ordered, pleased when he immediately did as directed, perching on the edge of the large settee facing him. "Now…first and foremost…what makes you think, in your wildest dreams, that you are good enough to court my daughter?"

"Nothing, sir," Samuel answered without hesitation. "I know for a fact that I am unworthy to even stand in the shadow of her grace and beauty. And if I were in your shoes, sir, I would be just as opposed to this union as you now appear to be."

This took Erik back a bit…the boy was actually making sense. He was also looking Erik directly in the eye, never averting his gaze from his deathlike face. The boy was strong willed, to be sure, yet one right answer and the ability to stare at him without flinching did not automatically win him the right to his daughter.

"So you admit to being undeserving of my daughter's hand and yet you actively pursue her…I fail to see the logic," Erik continued.

"In my heart, I know that Julianna is so far above me, for she is like the moon and stars…glorious and unreachable…yet I am unable to cease gazing upon her loveliness." Samuel seemed lost for a moment in thought, yet he quickly cleared his throat and pressed on. "I would give her the moon, sir, anything she asked for I would travel the earth to provide it. As soon as I got home I applied for a position at a prestigious financial firm, and just yesterday they offered me a job. It is just entry level, but it will offer us a fine living, one that will allow me to afford a wife and family. I want to protect Julianna, to care for her, and make her happy in every way imaginable."

"And just how many other women have you said these words to?" Erik was now going in for the kill. He had seen Samuel with girls before he left for America and his imagination could conjure up a dozen more such lasses hanging on the boy's arm while at college. He was, after all, a chip off the old Persian block.

"I admit that I have stepped out with a few girls in my time," Samuel confessed, looking a bit more nervous, yet determined to hold his ground. "Yet I can state with all honesty that never once have I lied to them or offered more than I was willing to provide. I have never told a woman I loved her…not once. And while I know I might appear to be something of a wolf in heat, I resolved in my mind years ago that until I knew I indeed loved a woman with all my heart and soul, I would never take that relationship further than the bedroom door."

Erik was stunned. Was Samuel saying what he thought he was? That he had never bedded a woman…not once?

"Are you telling me that you are still…" Erik stopped there, not sure exactly how to phrase such a delicate question.

"That is correct, sir, and I am not ashamed to admit it." Samuel held his head high, even if his cheeks did turn a tint of pink. "You see, I grew up hearing about my father's past and his dalliances with women."

"Yes, I know all about them," Erik muttered, rolling his eyes as he recalled the many tales he had been forced to endure. "And that is what concerns me most."

"I think you misunderstand," he broke in, eager to set things straight. "My father was not bragging about them…instead he laments each and every encounter. I cannot tell you how many times he has sat me down and explained the importance of making sure of your feelings before engaging in such intimate relations. That if he had it to do over again, he would have waited until he met my mother before giving of himself that way. I know that the reason they decided to marry was because of me, they have kept nothing secret, yet they swear that even if I had not been on the way, they would have eventually married. I have seen the depth of their love and I would never wish to risk attaining such a prize myself by throwing it away on some meaningless conquest."

"Honestly? Not even once?" Erik was torn…for on one hand Samuel was a handsome lad and from what he saw, very popular among the ladies. And yet, he himself could not fathom being with any woman but Christine, so the idea that the boy might be speaking the truth was not completely out of the realm of being true.

"I will not lie and say I have not been tempted," he admitted with a touch of reluctance. "However, every time I have come close to giving in, something would stop me. I used to think it was my father's words, yet now I know it was instead the beautiful eyes of Julianna. She has been in my mind and heart since the first time you allowed me to hold her as a child…I simply did not realize the extent of my love for her until I returned from America." He then leaned forward, staring at Erik with eyes full of sincerity and hope. "And that is why I come before you today, sir, begging for your approval to take your daughter's hand in marriage. She loves you far too much to go against your wishes and so all my happiness rests upon your answer. Will you do me the supreme honor of giving us your blessing?"

Erik did not know what to say. He had planned and practiced for this day over and over in his mind…and each time the answer was a resounding _no!_ Yet now as he sat there and stared into the face of his would-be enemy, the thief and cad who was bent on stealing his little girl from him…he hesitated. Why was he not grabbing the lad by the scruff of his neck and pitching him out into the street? Why was the boy not in a choke hold at this very moment, turning a delightful shade of purple as his Punjab lasso stole the air from his worthless lungs? Erik had no answer…and yet he knew he must give one.

"I…I will need time to think on this," he managed to get out at last, "before I can give you my decision."

"I understand," Samuel said, sounding much less despondent than Erik assumed he would. "I will take my leave of you now and await your reply at your convenience." He then stood and offered Erik his hand, showing his admiration and esteem.

Erik had become used to shaking hands over the years, mostly when closing a deal for business reasons. Yet this was different. In this handshake he would be conveying mutual respect for the boy, an unspoken bond of acceptance…if not friendship. Dare he?

Slowly reaching out his own hand, he gripped Samuel's and gave it a firm shake, watching the boy's eyes light up at the gesture.

_Damn it all to hell…now he was going to have to say yes, wasn't he?_

"Send Daniel in to see me," Erik ordered, doing his best to sound gruff as the lad headed out.

"Yes, sir," Samuel nodded, "Thank you again for your time." And with one final nod he shut the door behind him.

Erik sat there stewing over what had just happened for a long time, lost in thought until he heard the door open once more.

"You wished to see me, Father?" Daniel asked, coming in and sitting down in the seat his friend had just vacated.

"Yes, I wish to ask you some questions," Erik began, steepling his fingers and resting them under his chin. "I want you to tell me of Samuel's…_history with the ladies_, and I expect the truth, son."

"I have never lied to you before, Father," Daniel insisted, sounding a bit offended by his suggestion that he would do so now. "And as much as I admire and care about my friend, my loyalty will always be to you and this family. I owe everything I am to you and Mother, for taking me in and showing me the kind of unconditional love that a boy in my position never dreamed possible. So never doubt that I will speak the truth, no matter what questions you might pose to me."

"I believe you, Daniel," Erik nodded, a slight lump in his throat forming at the boy's touching words. "So tell me…what do you think of Samuel wishing to marry your sister…is he worthy of such a prize?"

"I think we both know that no man is worthy of Julianna's hand," Daniel replied with a bit of a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. "Each of my sisters is precious in my eyes, and any man who wishes to court them will find me a formidable adversary. And yet…if Julianna _must_ fall in love and wishes to marry…I cannot think of a more decent fellow for her to choose than Samuel. I am not sure what he told you in here, since Mother refused to let me listen at the door." This caused Erik to crack a smile, imagining the scene outside with everyone waiting in dread to see if the boy made it out alive. "Yet I know for a certainty that in respect to his conduct with other women, Samuel is worthy to offer himself without reservation to Julianna. I have long admired my friend for his moral code when it comes to the subject of marital relations."

"I…I am glad to hear this," Erik nodded thoughtfully. "And coming from you, my son, it is indeed high praise." Yet something in Daniel's tone gave Erik pause, making him recall his plan to speak to his son about what had transpired with the girl in America. Now might not be the most opportune time, but at least it would take his mind off Samuel and Julianna. "And what about you? Might I be so bold as to ask about your current state where the opposite sex is concerned? We have not had a chance to talk about what happened while you were at college. Will you tell me about it?"

Daniel's eyes grew wide and then he turned away in shame, not wanting his father to see the humiliation he felt over the whole ghastly situation. Yet he valued his father's opinion and his advice had always been helpful…besides, if anyone could understand what he was feeling, it was him. So with a deep breath he spoke the painful words he had been keeping inside for over six months now.

"I was a fool, Father, an utter fool," Daniel began, leaning back against the settee and running his fingers through his hair as he stared at the ceiling. "Evelyn Vanpatten had bewitched me with her beauty and grace from the moment I laid eyes on her. She was all I could think of, the only one I wished to spend time with…and yet, from day one she had duped me."

"Do not berate yourself so," Erik told him in a sympathetic voice. "Love is a difficult maze to navigate, and often it is only through trial and error that we find the prize at the end."

"Yet you and Mother never had to look around, you knew immediately that you belonged together," Daniel argued, still feeling foolish over the whole fiasco.

"I might have known immediately that your mother was the only woman for me, however she was not as quickly convinced as I was. Still it took us both a long time to admit our feeling, we both held back, not wishing to offer our hearts in case they be rejected."

"Well, I certainly put my heart on display…and Evelyn stomped all over it!" Daniel said bitterly. "I was so blind to all her faults, even though Samuel tried on multiple occasions to open my eyes to them. And when I was certain that she was the one, the _only one_, I sat her down and revealed to her…my greatest secret." Here he leaned forward, looking down at the floor and giving a low moan of pain. "It was nothing short of a nightmare. She gasped and pulled away from me the moment she saw my scars. I had often wondered if she had at least suspected, for as talented as you are at making masks, Father, if a person looks closely enough, the edges are not completely invisible. Had she never cared enough to notice? Never looked at me closely enough to even see there was something different?" When Erik gave no reply, for in truth he had none to give, Daniel continued on. "When I tried to explain she ran for the door, wishing for nothing more than to get as far away from me as possible. I tried to stop her, to get her to stay and speak with me, but she began to scream, striking out at me and calling me a…a monster and a freak." Here he stopped and took in a few ragged breaths, his hands balling into fists as they shook slightly. "I have never dreamed it was possible for me to wish harm upon a woman, but at that moment, all I wanted to do was wring her selfish, rotten little neck. It was as if every kind and tender feeling I had for her turned to hate in one split second. I felt betrayed, I felt used and I felt…_ugly_!"

"Daniel," Erik leaned forward, reaching out to comfort his son, but the boy sat back, not wishing to be touched.

"No, Father…please do not give me your pity," he stated, unwilling to look him in the eye.

"It is not pity, son," Erik insisted, knowing just how his boy felt. "My words stem only from the love I feel for you, and knowing just what you are going through. You think you are the only one who has ever felt ugly before?"

"I know what you are going to say and believe me, I had said it to myself a million times already," Daniel continued on. "I know that looks do not make the man, and that I have so much more going for me than a handsome face. Yet…my actions and feelings frightened me that day. I swear I did nothing, I never laid a hand on her or spoke any of the vile things I wished to say out loud. I let her leave and I never attempted to see her again. And yet…I worry…what if I _had_ acted out of anger? Or what if the next woman I choose to love reacts the same way? Will I have the strength to stop myself again? What if, deep down, I am a monster? I am so confused and afraid…and I don't know what to do!" He could no longer hold back the tears he had kept in so long, and burying his face in his hands he gave into his grief.

Erik was up and at his side in a flash, wrapping his arm around his son as he pulled him close. It did not take long for Daniel to turn towards him, accepting the embrace of his loving father.

"You need to stop thinking of yourself in such a way, Daniel," Erik began, his heart breaking for the pain this was causing his boy. His eyes suddenly fell upon the book there beside his chair and something he had just read sprang to mind. "You know…Mark Twain wrote, 'That the weakest of all weak things, is a virtue that has not been tested in the fire.' You, my son, are not weak, for through this battle of the heart, you _have_ been tested…by the fire of both love and hate. However, you stood up to the heat of persecution, of being betrayed by one you thought cared for you…and you came out stronger because of it. You did not give into the instinct to lash out, to return harm to those who first hurt you. Instead you proved your worth by walking away and not lashing out like some wounded animal. I am proud of you Daniel…you did the right thing."

"You…you truly think so?" he asked, looking up at his father with a mixture of hope and admiration. "Yet I can still feel the pain…I can still hear her condemning words echoing in my mind."

"I am so sorry this happened to you, my son," Erik whispered, unable to speak any louder over the lump in his throat. "As your parent, I have always wished that your life would be better than mine. That by growing up with a family who loved you, things might turn out different this time. Yet it would seem that no matter our past, the cruelties of life will always be there to challenge us. I had hoped that my temperament would not rub off on you, yet it would appear that you need not have my blood running through your veins in order to inherit my sins. For I once feared the same things as you…that I would lose myself to the rage that boiled inside of me when faced with scorn and ridicule. Yet in you, I see a power I never possessed in my youth…a strength of will that I did not acquire until I met your mother."

"You…you fought against such evil thoughts as well?" Daniel questioned, looking up at Erik in astonishment.

"I have worked hard to keep my past secret hidden from you and your sisters. I never wanted you to look at me with fear or disgust over the wrongs I have committed against this world," Erik lamented. "I understand your turmoil…the same battle that rages within you has long been my unwanted companion - something I have fought very hard to control. Yet it _can_ be defeated…you can prevail over it, my son and I have more than enough faith that you will succeed."

"I never want to feel that way again, Father," he insisted, sitting back and wiping away his tears. "I never want to open my heart to the pain that love can bring. I thought the despair would kill me, and those first few weeks I was inconsolable. If it had not been for Samuel, I don't know what I might have done."

"You get that from your mother," Erik said with a deadpan look, recalling just how despondent she had become after she had learned about her blindness. When Daniel gave him a questioning look, Erik quickly waved it off and continued. "Yet it does not have to be that way. When the right girl comes along, and there_ is_ such a person out there, you will not fear opening your heart again. She will accept you for who you are and your face will not matter to her one bit. She will look upon you with the eyes of love and you will know without a doubt that you have chosen wisely. If I can find such a woman with a face like mine…I have no doubt that you will do the same."

"Have I told you lately how much I love you, Father?" Daniel asked, a warm smile gracing his lips at last. "How much I have grown to respect you for all your years of care and compassion? It has truly been an honor to call you my father."

"I too have found nothing but joy in raising you as my son," Erik replied, his own tears now running down his mangled cheeks, yet he felt no shame. "I cannot tell you the pleasures you have given me every moment you have been in our lives. I don't know what I would have done had you not wished to join our family, for I had come to love you so dearly from the first moment I spoke with you. I could not have asked for a truer son than you, Daniel."

The words were barely out of his mouth before the two were wrapped in a tight embrace, both sniffling and trying their best to fight back the unmanly tears. Finally when they were able to compose themselves, they began to chuckle, each one doing their best to act as if the touching moment had not happened. Yet, they both knew the love had been real and they would never forget the words they shared.

"Well…now," Erik said, clearing his throat. "I suppose that still leaves me with the problem of what to tell that upstart who wants to marry your sister."

"I know this is hard on you, Father…it is not very easy for me either," he admitted. "Yet, I fear that should you say no, you will break Julianna's heart in two. I have spent a good deal of time with the both of them lately, and when they look at each other…I see the same kind of love I have always noted in you and Mother. I believe they were destined to be together, that they have been waiting for the day their love would blossom, ever since they were children." He then got a sly look on his face and added, "Besides that…Mother is all for it and you know you will never hear the end of it if you go against her."

"I truly am caught between a rock and a hard place, am I not?" Erik moaned.

"It could be worse," Daniel pointed out.

"Truly? How is that?" he scoffed, not sure such a scenario existed.

"Julianna could have fallen for a de Chagny," he replied with a hint of laughter.

"Bite your tongue!" Erik bellowed, pulling back in horror. It had long been a private joke between Erik and Amir, that whenever they wished to curse at the other, yet did not want the children to hear foul language, they would wish a thousand de Chagnys upon the other. It was decidedly the most vulgar thing that either one of them could imagine. Apparently, Daniel had learned the secret behind the statement and was now using it to put things into perspective. "I would pack up this family and move to the North Pole before I would allow any of my children to marry into _that_ family!"

"Samuel is suddenly not looking so bad after all, is he?" Daniel asked with a laugh, causing his father to roll his eyes before he too began to chuckle.

"I suppose he is the lesser of two evils," he admitted, reaching up to muss the boy's hair like he used to do when he was little.

And with both of them still smiling, they got up and headed for the door. When it was opened, they were faced with three pairs of anxious eyes, all waiting for the answer that Erik was loath to give.

"Father?" Julianna asked, stepping forward with a worried look in her eyes.

"Do you love him?" Erik asked in a gruff tone, not daring to look at his wife or Samuel.

"I love him with all my heart," she assured him, not wavering for a second.

"You think he will be a good husband to you?" Erik persisted. "Never take you for granted or become harsh with you in any fashion?"

"He will be the best husband in the world," she told him with a smile, stepping even closer as she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Second only to you, of course, Father."

Her words and the kiss had melted his heart and taking her into his arms he whispered into her ear, "Then I give you my blessing. Marry the boy if you must…just promise me that you will never forget your old father, and come over for dinner every now and again."

"I promise," she assured him, returning his hug as tears of joy spilled down her face. "I love you so much…thank you!" she choked out at last.

Erik looked up and watched as Samuel approached, a smile of gratitude on his face as he watched the tender scene before him.

"I thank you as well, sir," he said with a nod.

"You just make sure you treat my baby right," Erik threatened, not caring if his words frightened the boy. "I am not a forgiving man, and my arm is long, so if you ever make my Julianna cry, I will take great pleasure in showing you the true meaning of the word pain."

"Erik!" Christine scolded, not having seen this side of him in many years.

"No, it is all right," Samuel insisted, holding up his hand to Christine to halt her words in his defense. "I accept his terms and I fully intend to live up to each and every one of them. And should I fail to make Julianna happy, I would deserve nothing less."

"Well…then it looks as if we are all in agreement," Daniel laughed, finding this whole exchange rather odd…yet somehow fitting. Theirs had never been what one would call a normal family, but he would not exchange it for all the money in the world. "I believe this calls for champagne!"

.

.

And so, that was how Erik had been _tricked_ into allowing this whole fiasco to go forth…and with each passing day his heart grew heavier and his trepidation increased. How on earth could he have agreed to let his little Julianna go?

Now as he lay there, staring at the ceiling and dreading the moment he was forced to set foot outside his bed, he wondered if he just stayed where he was, time would stand still as well. Yet this was not to be, for very soon he heard the pitter-patter of little feet making their way into his room, coming to stand beside the bed.

"Papa," came the distinctive sound of his precious Chantel. "I am hungry."

Erik turned his head and stared at her plaintive little eyes, for that was just about as much of her face that showed above the mattress and blankets. Either they needed a shorter bed…or his daughter needed to grow.

NO! Erik sprang into a sitting position. None of his girls needed to grow! Not a day older or an inch taller, and if he could have discovered a way to make that happen…he certainly would have!

"I am sorry, little one," he told her, reaching out and picking her up as he brought her up on the bed beside him. "I am afraid your father is getting a late start of it. I will fix you something right away." At ten years old his little twins were getting to the age where they wanted to do many things for themselves…thankfully making their own breakfast was not one of them. This made Erik happy, for what girl would even think of getting married without knowing how to cook for her husband…correct? Erik knew he was grasping at straws, but in his current mood, he would take any bit of hope he could get.

"Me too, Papa!" Jacqueline called, running into the room and bounding up on the bed beside her sister. "I want eggs and toast and juice and…and candy!"

"You can't eat candy for breakfast!" Chantel informed her in no uncertain terms. She took after her mother in that regard, always practical.

"But it is a special day! Julianna is getting married…shouldn't we get candy today, Papa?" She then looked at him and batted her long dark lashes at him, a trait that Erik knew would be the death of someone. If such a tactic worked on him…he could only imagine how effective it would be when she tried it on some poor unsuspecting boy. Yes indeed, he would have to kill every young man in town.

"You will be getting cake after the wedding, Jacqueline," he told her firmly. "Thus you will be having oatmeal and toast for breakfast, and be content with it."

"May I have brown sugar on my oatmeal?" she pleaded, apparently not abandoning the issue of sweets very easily.

"I think that can be arranged," he smiled. At least he could still fulfill the wishes of some of his daughters, he thought to himself as he pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed, placing his own robe over his black, cotton sleepwear. "Now…hurry and dress and your breakfast will be waiting on the table."

Both girls hurried off to obey, leaving Erik to trudge down to the kitchen alone. When he arrived he saw Daniel standing there alone, his back against the counter while he absentmindedly consumed a buttered croissant.

"Is that all you are having?" Erik asked, reaching into the cupboard to retrieve the oats needed to cook the girls' breakfast.

"I will try to grab something else before the wedding," Daniel told him with a halfhearted smile as he popped the last of the flaky pastry into his mouth and dusted off his hands. "Can't have the best man passing out during the ceremony…after all, that is the groom's job."

"Is something bothering you, son?" Erik asked, instantly seeing through Daniel's attempt at humor. "You don't have to pretend with me. Are you concerned about the wedding? Are you having second thoughts about your sister marrying today?" Erik almost hoped he would say yes, giving him an ally in his wish to stop this whole day from going forth.

"No, of course not," Daniel quickly assured him. "Nothing like that…it is just that…" he paused there and shook his head. "It is nothing, forget I said anything."

"If it is something that causes you distress, you know I cannot," Erik informed him, steering the young man to the table and encouraging him to sit down. "Now, tell me what it is."

"I…I think I might be jealous," he admitted with a reluctant chuckle. "I see Samuel and Julianna, together and so in love…and well, I want that too. Yet every time I think I might be ready to begin trying…I think of Evelyn and how much she hurt me and I am right back where I started. I don't want to feel this way…but how can I stop?"

"I do not have an answer for you, my boy," Erik said with a heavy sigh. "The only thing I can recommend for you is time. Time will allow your wounds to heal…time will offer you insight on what it is you truly want…and time will also allow that special someone to finally make her way into your life. All you have to do is wait."

"I was never known for my patience," Daniel laughed, knowing his father's words were both insightful and true.

"You get that from me," Erik nodded, having had to deal with the boy's constant need for things to happen immediately and on his schedule more times than he cared to remember. "Still, you are a smart lad, you will know when the time is right."

"Time is right for what?" Anna asked, entering the kitchen, dressed and looking like the quintessential grandmother of the bride, bedecked in her best dress and pearls.

"For me to wish you good morning, Grandmother," Daniel spoke up, rising from his seat and giving her a kiss on her cheek. "You look lovely today, so much in fact, that I fear no one will even notice the bride."

"Oh, stop," she fussed, turning a shade of pink at his words. "You are a master at flattery, just like your father." She then reached out and patted his shoulder lovingly. "Yet I will never turn down a compliment from such a handsome young man as yourself. Let's just not tell your grandfather about it, all right, you know how jealous he gets."

"What is this?" Charles asked, also coming into the kitchen dressed. "Are you keeping secrets from me again, my love? What is it this time, a handsome prince you plan to run away with? I always knew you would see the error of your ways and run off with someone better one day," he laughed, placing his arms around his wife as he gave her a gentle squeeze. Charles too was dressed in his finest monkey suit, as he was known to call them. His cravat was a bit crooked and a few licks of his greying hair were sticking up, but otherwise he looked very dapper. He had been forced to retire from the orchestra a few years back, due to the aching in his joints and fingers, making it impossible for him to continue playing the violin professionally. He still found time to play a song or two for his grandchildren and assist Erik in training the twins, who had recently taken up the instrument. He also now walked with a cane, but he told everyone it was due to the fact that Anna said it made him look distinguished, not because he needed it to steady his steps.

"You foolish old man, you know that I would never run off with anyone else…for in my eyes there is no man alive better than you," Anna laughed. "However, I have indeed been the recipient of flattering words this morning, compliments of your grandson."

"Well, that is altogether different," Charles nodded, giving Daniel a wink. "And how is everyone doing this morning? All ready for the big day?"

When Erik gave a low moan, closing his eyes and shaking his head, he had his answer. Yet before any words of sympathy could be offered, the sound of the twins racing down the stairs and into the kitchen interrupted them. They both stopped short, staring at the empty table and then at their father in surprise.

"Papa! You said you were going to have our breakfast waiting," Jacqueline whined, acting as if she were about to expire from hunger at any moment.

"I am sorry, my dearest," Erik apologized, rising from his seat and heading back to the cupboard to finish what he had started when he had become distracted by Daniel's plight. "I will fix it right away."

"I will take care of the girl's meal," Anna countered, taking the tin of oats from his hand. "You need to get yourself ready…we can't have a wedding without the father of the bride there to give her away. And you can't do so in your night clothes!"

"If I remain in them will that put a halt to things?" Erik asked hopefully.

"No! Now get yourself upstairs and get dressed!" Anna was using that tone of voice that meant business, and even Erik, the famed Opera Ghost, knew better than to argue with her. So grumbling all the way, up he went to bathe and dress…much like a condemned man preparing to face the guillotine.

.

.

The wedding was to be held at a chateau outside of Paris and an hour long carriage ride was required. Erik had hired an extra coach to make room for all attending, and as George pulled up in the first one, Erik and his family were ready and waiting. Erik, Christine, Julianna and Daniel rode together, while Anna, Charles and the twins made use of the second. While most were dressed for the ceremony, Julianna wished to dress at the chateau so as not to wrinkle her gown. Mother and daughter kept up a steady stream of conversation, talking about everything from the cake to the veil, never noticing that Erik and Daniel remained subdued.

When they arrived, Christine and Julianna hurried off to the apartments designated for them to dress and prepare. Erik directed Anna and Charles to the place where the ceremony would be held and strictly ordered the twins to behave while they waited. He saw Amir, Monique and Samuel standing off to the side, the elderly Persian fussing over the state of his son's cravat. It would not be long now.

Erik made his way upstairs and knocked on the door, patiently waiting to be admitted into his daughter's dressing area. When the door opened and his lovely wife smiled at him, a bit of the tension he had been carrying around lessened. She always did have the ability to lighten his moods.

"May I come in?" he inquired, holding back.

"Yes, we just finished," Christine nodded, stepping aside as she allowed him to enter.

What Erik saw took his breath away. Next to seeing Christine on their wedding day, walking down the aisle towards him, this had to be the most beautiful sight a man could behold. Tears pricked his eyes as he stared at the vision before him, his little girl…all grown up. Taking a few steps towards her, he grasped her hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing them reverently as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

"You are truly a vision, my little Jewel," he told her. "No man deserves such a prize."

"Except Samuel," she chuckled, reaching up to kiss Erik's masked cheek. He had chosen to wear his white leather mask this day, the effect quite striking against his black suit. There would only be friends and family here this day, aside from the judge hired to perform the ceremony, so he did not bother to break out his flesh colored one. "I know you do not like the idea of me getting married…to anyone, however, I also know that of all the young men in this world, Samuel is the closest you might already consider to family. Am I right?"

Erik knew she was fishing, forcing him to admit his feelings out loud…and he did not disappoint her.

"Yes…I suppose that the boy has been around long enough that I have grown…_tolerant_ of him," Erik confessed, practically choking on every word.

"And I love him very deeply, Father," she assured him. "I always have, you know, ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of growing up and marrying him. Now my dreams have come true."

"I would never wish to deprive you of your dreams, my darling," Erik assured her, yet couldn't help adding with a pleading look, "Yet…if you did wish to change your mind…I can't say I would be disappointed."

"Father," Julianna sighed, giving him an exasperated look.

"I know," he replied in defeat, "I just had to try one last time. You just have no idea how different things will be now, with you gone and out of the house. For the past eighteen years I have watched you grow right before my eyes, filling our home with laughter and love. Daniel might be older than you, but you were my _first _child. You were the one who made your mother and me into a true family, and I can't help but feel like I am losing you this day."

"You could never lose me!" Julianna assured him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "You have been the world's greatest father and my best friend for as long as I can remember. Growing up I often wished I too was a boy, so that I could one day become just like you…proud, strong and so loving. You have shown me what every girl deserves in a mate, and I will expect no less from Samuel."

"Well then," Christine broke in, coming up beside her husband and taking hold of one of his hands, "it would appear that Samuel has some pretty impressive shoes to fill. He will have to strive very hard to meet the standards your father has set."

Erik felt a swell of pride at his wife and daughter's words, wondering what he could have done to deserve such unconditional love.

Just then the bells at some local church began to chime the time, and after quickly conferring with his pocket watch, Erik announced that it was only a scant thirty minutes until the wedding.

"You scoot along and make sure Daniel and Lili are ready and in place," Christine ordered, directing him to the door. "I will see to the final touch ups here and then Julianna and I will meet you at the back entrance to the hall. Now scoot, we are running out of time."

As the door shut behind him, he knew she was right. He had only thirty minutes left before Samuel would usurp his position in his little girl's life. Shutting his eyes, he gave a heavy sigh as he leaned his head back against the door.

"Harder than you thought it would be, son?" came a voice from down the hall.

Erik opened his eyes and watched as Charles walked towards him, a bit slower these days and aided by his cane, but still a striking figure of health.

"How did you survive it?" Erik asked when he came to stand beside him. "I keep telling myself that this is all natural…that children grow up and marry, making their own way in life. But for some reason…I just can't seem to shake the urge to scoop her up and run away, hiding her someplace where no man will ever find her again."

"That sounds about right," Charles laughed, folding his hands over the head of his cane and leaning against the wall next to Erik. "I too wanted to do that very thing the day you wed my little Christine. However, Anna kept reminding me that she was not my little girl any longer…but a woman. And as much as I hate to inform you of this, Erik…Julianna is all grown up as well."

"Yes…I just noticed," he admitted, gesturing to what lay behind the door he was leaning on. "When did it happen? Wasn't she just a baby yesterday, learning to walk and talk?"

"It feels that way, doesn't it?" Charles nodded sadly. "Where has the time gone?" He then straightened up and jerked his head in the direction he had just come. "Yet, I think I know something that might lift your spirits. Follow me."

Erik was not sure if anything at this point could make him feel better, yet over the years he had learned that his father-in-law was often a fountain of good advice and suggestions. So he followed.

Charles led him to one of the other apartment doors just down the hall. It was slightly open and as he approached, Erik could hear voices. The older man beckoned him closer, placing a finger to his lips, instructing him to be quiet. Peeking through the crack he saw Daniel fussing with his own cravat while Lili sat nearby laughing at him.

"Some best man I turned out to be, I can't even fix this blasted thing!" he huffed, giving up and pulling it from around his neck for the third time.

"Let me help you," Lili offered, rising and coming to stand before him. "You have tied these a million times, it is only your nerves causing your fingers to fail you." In no time at all she had successfully tied the perfect knot and had it lying straight. "There, now you look handsome."

Daniel gave a snort of disagreement over her statement, before reluctantly turning to look at himself in the mirror.

"Why do you do that?" she asked, stepping closer to him until they could both be seen together in the reflection. "Why do you always put yourself down when anyone compliments you that way? Is it so impossible for you to believe me when I say you look handsome?"

"I have recently been shown the contrary, and I am not one to live in a fantasy world," he informed her, his tone a bit harsh.

"Daniel," Lili began, taking his hand and leading him away from the offending mirror and bringing him to sit next to her on the lounge. "I don't know all the details of what happened during your time in America…but from what Samuel felt comfortable telling me, I understand that this woman, Evelyn, hurt you very deeply."

"I do not think this is suitable conversation," he told her, turning his head away.

"I disagree," she insisted, reaching up and using her fingers to turn his face back to her. "For obviously it is something that has been eating at you for some time. Do you still care about this girl…do you still love her?"

"Love Evelyn?" Daniel asked, shock and disgust resonating in his voice. "I can assure you that I ceased caring for _her_ the moment she threw my declaration of love back in my face…my horribly deformed face!"

"Stop!" she scolded, placing her hand on his chest. "You are the only one who thinks that way, and I will not have you speaking badly about the man I…" she stopped there, looking down at her hands as a tinge of pink covered her cheeks.

There was a moment of silence in the room, and out in the hall, both Erik and Charles held their breath.

"The man you…what?" Daniel asked at last, his voice slightly shaking.

"I…I shouldn't," she protested, moving to rise, but he grasped her hands and held her in place.

"Tell me," Daniel pleaded once more, reaching up to tip her chin so that she was looking him in the eye. "The man you what?"

"The man…that I love," she finished, suddenly transfixed by his stare.

"You…you _love_…me?" He was both shocked and pleased by the news, yet his mind did not quite know how to process it all.

"I have for a very long time," she admitted, suddenly empowered by having said it out loud. "I just never had the courage to tell you, and then when you went away and began sending letters back home about _her_…I believed I had missed my chance. I prayed every night that it was not real, that you didn't really care for her and that you would instead come home a free man. And when it came true, and you did break things off with her, I felt just terrible, thinking that my wishing had been the cause of your pain. I never wanted to cause you grief…even if it meant you being with someone else, I have always desired your happiness above all else."

"I…I never knew," he stammered, feeling rather foolish at the moment. "Was I blind?"

"No…you were just, well…being a man," she told him with a nervous laugh. "When you left for school, I was still only a child in your eyes, and you looked upon me as a cousin or a friend…that is all. Yet during those four years, I have grown up…I will be turning eighteen very soon and…"

"And you have blossomed into a beautiful flower, just as your name suggests," Daniel finished for her, daring to reach up and brush her cheek with his trembling fingers. "How did I miss it? How did I not see this amazing woman right under my nose?"

"I think you were too busy searching the horizon to bother noticing what lay at your feet all along," she told him, leaning in to his touch.

"Or perhaps I was simply unworthy to dare cast my eyes upon the goddess whom I had placed on a pedestal so long ago?" he suggested, once more enjoying the way she blushed at his words. "I still recall the first moment I laid eyes on you, and even back then I said you were pretty. Yet now…now you have surpassed any description of beauty I could ever hope to imagine. I admit that I have always had feelings for you…and not always of the cousinly kind. Yet to me, you have been like a treasure out of my reach, a woman I would never be worthy to possess."

"That is not true!" she firmly insisted. "You have let the lies that viper told you lead you astray. I am sorry she hurt you and made you feel unworthy of love…but it is right here, yours for the taking, if you only wish it."

"What about my face?" Daniel questioned, pulling back slightly. "Does it not offend you, knowing that it only lies hidden behind a rubber mask designed by my father? Does the idea of it not disgust you?"

"Daniel…I have seen your face on many occasions, and never once has it caused me a moment of concern." She then looked him right in the eye. "Your face is part of you, a part I love as much as any other. It does not matter to me what you look like…for don't you know that love is blind?"

"Your words are beginning to make me believe that it might be true," he smiled, staring at her as if she were the most perfect thing on earth.

"Besides…your father wears a mask, and I do not see your mother complaining one bit," Lili finished, a triumphant look in her eyes as her words made him laugh.

"Well, if I am in any way being compared to my father, how in the world could I feel inadequate?" Daniel responded. "Yet I fear that I will need to prove my worth to you…and your father. He might be pleased to welcome my sister into his family…but would he feel the same of me?"

"Daniel…" Lili gasped, pulling back so that she could look him directly in the eye. "Are you saying…I mean do you feel…" she was unable to finish her statement due to the fact that he brought his lips down on hers, silencing any further speech.

"That's my boy!" Erik whispered, nudging Charles with his elbow as the older man grinned alongside of him.

When Daniel finally pulled back, the look of complete contentment on both their faces made it more than obvious exactly how they felt.

"I may not have fully understood until this very moment, Lili Dessan…but I know in my heart that I too have loved you for a very long time," he confessed. "And if I had to endure the pain inflicted upon me by a thousand Evelyns in order to come to this conclusion…then I regret nothing." He then slid off the side of the lounge and went down on one knee, taking her hand in his. "Will you do me the honor, Mademoiselle Dessan, of allowing me to court you properly? To speak with your father on our behalf and plead for the privilege of being your beau?"

"Yes!" Lili squealed, needing no further encouragement than that. "Oh, yes, Daniel…YES!" And before he could respond, she too got down on her knees and engulfed him in a loving embrace.

Feeling rather intrusive now, Erik signaled that it was time that they leave the young lovers to themselves, and the two of them began to head down the hall, making their way to the ceremony location.

"How did you know?" Erik asked, looking at the older man with a new sense of wonder.

"Oh, I have been around long enough to recognize young love when I see it…even if those involved have yet to notice it themselves," he told him with a smug look.

"I will never underestimate you again, sir," Erik told him, slipping back into using the long abandoned title of respect.

They were just about to turn the corner when Amir came around, looking a bit frazzled and in a rush.

"Where have you been?" he asked, tugging on his cravat as if it were choking him. "Samuel is already waiting at the altar, and you, Erik, will need to walk the bride down the aisle at any moment! We only have ten minutes left!"

"Calm down, old man," Erik huffed. "Everyone is ready and we are heading there now."

"Where are Daniel and Lili?" he asked, looking around with a worried expression. "The best man and maid of honor need to walk in first."

Charles opened his mouth to answer but Erik cut him off.

"I think they are waiting in the room at the end of the hall," he casually mentioned, gesturing to the door they had just been spying through. "Why don't you go motivate them to hurry up and we will see you downstairs." With that he grabbed his father-in-law and all but dragged him around the corner. Yet, halfway down Erik paused, turning back as if waiting for something.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" came the bellowing voice of Amir, followed by the slamming of a door and further muffled voices raised in both panic and alarm.

"You are a very evil man," Charles told Erik, yet even he could not wipe the wide smile off his face.

"And it only took you this long to figure that out?" Erik asked, laughing as well. It might have been an unkind thing to do, but he knew that Daniel could take care of himself. Besides, anything he could do to get a rise out of the Daroga was well worth the effort. "They will be just fine…besides, looks like Amir has just been inducted into our small club."

"Our club?" Charles questioned, as the two men continued on their way.

"Yes, the 'fathers who had to give away their daughters club'," Erik informed him with a smug smile on his face. "Let's just see how_ he_ enjoys the jokes and the ribbing for a change!"

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Ten minutes later, a very flustered, yet happy best man and maid of honor rushed down the stairs and took their places, both smiling and holding hands. They were followed by a stern looking, red faced Persian who paused only long enough to give Erik a look of death, before making his way up the aisle to sit in the chair next to his wife. The next to come down the stairs were Christine and Julianna, doing their best to not let her dress and veil drag on the steps as they went. With a quick kiss on her cheek, Christine bid her daughter all the best and then, with a wink and a smile directed at her husband, she too went down the aisle to find her seat.

"You look beautiful, sis," Daniel told Julianna, causing her to blush. "Samuel won't be able to think straight once he sees you."

"I only hope one day I make as pretty a bride as you," Lili whispered to her friend.

"I have no doubt that you will," Daniel told Lili, leaning down so that his lips almost grazed her ear as he spoke.

Just then the music began and the blushing couple straightened up, walking through the doors and heading up the aisle right on cue.

"Did I just miss something?" Julianna asked her father, looking up at him with a suspicious smile.

"I have a feeling we all missed it…even they themselves for a little while," Erik laughed, tucking his little Jewel's hand into the crook of his arm and escorting her to the doorway. "This is your last chance," he whispered. "Just say the word and I will whisk you away."

"I think my mind is made up," she assured him with a loving smile.

"I will buy you a pony," Erik offered in one final effort to persuade her.

"Tempting…but no," came her final answer.

So with one final look at his little girl, Erik blinked twice and instead walked a beautiful woman up to her awaiting groom.

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As the judge droned on, extolling the virtues of love, faithfulness and commitment, Erik sat next to Christine and thought about how fortunate he was. He had begun life as an outcast, an unwanted child who never expected to know love. Yet with the appearance of a woman, with a heart of gold, his life had been set on a path that had ultimately led to redemption. He still harbored deep regret for all the sins he had committed in the past, yet through Christine's love and acceptance, he had long since reconciled that with who he had been…not who he was now. Now he was a husband, a father and a friend…three things he never thought he would ever be. Yet, if truth be told, he loved each and every title bestowed upon him.

When the judge asked if anyone knew of any impediment preventing the couple to be wed, Erik couldn't help but open his mouth…yet no words came out. Samuel was a fine lad…no, a fine _man_, and he would take care of his precious little Jewel, of this he had no doubt. For if not, he had a well-kept Punjab lasso back at his home that would do the speaking for him in that regard.

The time came when the judge asked who it was that gives this woman to this man, and Erik rose, looking very tall and proud.

"Her mother and I do," he informed them, winning a smile of pride from his lovely daughter. Erik then sat back down, feeling suddenly quite old and tired. Yet with one look at the two beautiful little girls sitting next to him, he was instantly revitalized. With Amir not having any more sons, there went all hope of at least having a measure of control over prospective husbands. His Chantel and Jacqueline would need a lot of looking after, for all too soon they too would come of age and wish to put even further strain on his heart by seeking out a mate. And worst of all…they would be doing such things at the exact same time. Oh, the horror!

"Erik…are you all right?" Christine asked, noticing the stricken look that had settled in his eyes.

"I…I am not sure," he admitted, reaching out and taking her hand in his. He stared up at Julianna as Samuel raised her veil, the looks of love passing between the two impossible to miss. Next his eyes drifted to Daniel, standing up with his friend on his most important day, yet his eyes were only for Lili...and hers were in turn trained directly on him. Many things were bound to change, however, one thing would always remain the same. "Yet with you at my side, my darling angel, I think we will make it through…somehow."

"We always have before, my love," she assured him, leaning her head against his shoulder as the judge announce in a loud voice…

"You may now kiss the bride."

**THE END**

**And I REALLY, REALLY mean it this time!**

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**And there you have it, folks.  
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**I did not mean for it to be that long, but you know how things go...when Erik takes over and starts dictating what I am supposed to write, I am helpless against his seductive voice. *sigh***

**I hope you enjoyed the peek into their future, and with two more girls to go, I am certain Erik is in for one heck of a ride. ha ha.**

**How did you like Samuel and Julianna's romance?**

**Poor Daniel's failed one but then him getting it right with Lili?**

**Erik really is a very good father.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope to have this story back up on Kindle and Amazon for purchase. I will also be uploading the final four chapters as a separate Kindle book for those who bought it before I wrote them. Be sure to check for it soon.**

**Also, if you hit the "follow author" button, you will be notified when my next story comes out. It will be a modern POTO story with my version of how Erik and Christine will meet and fall in love in our day and age. Erik with a cell phone and a fast car...yummy! See you then!**

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**Guest Reviews:**

**MlleNikki:** Amir and Erik do have a very quirky relationship...but like Erik said...it works for them. ha ha. And you might have noticed that i used that line as the title of this last chapter. hope you enjoyed the more mature/older Dessans and Trouvilles.

**TheRebbs98:** I hope you found all this new one as well...I would hate for you to have missed out on any of the extra chapters! Daniel is truly a chip off the old block...even if that block did not sire him. ha ha. Erik was only being modest when he said he 'dabbled' in music, ha ha. Samuel is very much like his father...just not in the way of womanizing. He saved himself for his true love...Julianna! Ha ha, what are kids for if not to spoil them with rose biscuits? ha ha. And any day that Erik can scare the bejeebers out of Amir, is considered a GOOD day. ha ha. Yep, Amir finally got it all when he held his little daughter...the light goes on and the worry starts. ha ha.

**Mystery: ** I hope you liked how the kids turned out. It was not ALL smiles and laughter, there was some heartache in there too, but that is life...right? Everyone was happy in the end though. I really went back and forth about the last two kids...I wanted them to have a total of four, but it was only at the last second I decided to give him twins...and both GIRLS. I think that made Daniel feel even more special and close to Erik, being his only son and all. I am sorry this one was not up to "Erik speed" but did you see how LONG it was? ha ha.

**Another Guest: ** You can like whichever one you want to the best. They are all like my kids...and you are not supposed to have a favorite child. ha ha. I will be writing an new one VERY soon! I am afraid that I have never seen that show. Sounds like a cross between Survivor, Lost and the game Clue. ha ha. It would be a modern-day FF, right? Well I have never tried one of those before, but my next one will be my first stab at it. I will keep your plot line tucked away in the back of my mind in case I ever run out of my own ideas. ha ha. But with Erik as my muse...how could that EVER happen? ha ha. I thank you for your vote of confidante and your spirit of adventure! Thanks for reading. FP33

**PhantomChristine:** ha ha, oh you betcha! Amir HAD to have a girl, just so Erik could get even. No, I did not even think about how I named the little girl in MBTM Lillian...i just looked up Persian names and found one that meant blossom or flower and liked it. Thankfully, the mothers had SOME say in their daughters lives, so they are assured of weddings and babies. ha ha. I think Charles is the smartest one of them all...he has already lived through it, he could be a wealth of information and comfort. ha ha. I will do my best to crank out another one as quickly as possible. Thanks!


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